


"Hello, Joel"

by Aku_Maru



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angsty McCree, Blackwatch, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Brainwashing, Canon-Typical Violence, Deadlock McCree, Explosion at Overwatch HQ, Identity Issues, If you see a ship you like sail with it, Pent up emotional trauma, Psychological, Psychological Torture, Reunions, Sombra is a little shit, Talon Jesse McCree, Torture, Undercover Missions, mental breakdowns, through hell and back
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2018-11-07 05:17:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 78,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11052108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aku_Maru/pseuds/Aku_Maru
Summary: McCree, Hanzo and Genji go undercover to investigate a Talon/Deadlock weapons deal. The Overwatch agents meet Joel, an alias McCree has strong feelings about. They all end up having to worry about what will return when Talon is finished with the captured cowboy.---The eyes boring into Hanzo were cold and distant above a forced smile. No lazy easygoing cheer from the gunslinger before him. “So you’re Hanzo Shimada.” The grin broadened. A silver left hand tipped the fedora. “Pleasure.” The same charm and the same relaxed confidence. Yet staring down the barrel of the revolver brought back memories of the first time he encountered this sharpshooter. And this time the man held no compassion or curiosity in his eyes. This was not the Jesse McCree he knew.





	1. Discovery

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: Game play dialogue will be used in various locations. I just have to give context to the interactions. And I’m using fanart found on Pintrest and Tumblr to inspire different scenes. I will try to reference those that I can to give credit. Please assist me if you see a scene that I might have missed. 
> 
> Disclaimer: And thanks to Blizzard Entertainment and its conglomerate for allowing us free reign in playing with these interesting characters. And for the fanart I hope I get all of you credited for giving me inspiration and I hope I do your content justice.

[/\\][\/]

Chapter One: Discovery

The itch in the back of McCree’s skull burned something fierce. They were being followed. He should have said something but that put his attempt at flanking at risk. If his hackles were rising, that meant whoever was following them was close. Too close. Around the next turn, McCree dropped back and started to circle around. 

The black shroud and white mask painted a clear picture of the Talon agent known as Reaper. Two shotguns flung out behind him as the wraith silently followed the trail. McCree needed to let his team know that they were followed, but this picture did not feel right. There was only one man McCree knew to wield duel shotguns and that man was dead six years.

The wraith solidified, clearly looking for the loud lumbering cowboy. With Reaper’s back to McCree’s hideout behind the museums’ information desk, the gunslinger loosed the entire cartridge into the black coat. The inhuman scream of rage and pain threatened to blow out McCree’s eardrums. As Reaper turned he growled viciously, shotguns suddenly in Jesse’s face. 

Reflexively Jesse rolled out of the line of fire and emptied his Peacekeeper into the black body just as it attempted to shift into a vaporous black cloud. 

“Damn ingrate,” Reaper growled as his body collapsed on him. Twelve bullets at point blank range proved too much for him.

McCree froze. No one on earth called him a ‘damn ingrate’ except for one man, long dead. Gabriel Reyes. “Dammit.” Jesse kicked the shotguns out of reach and trained his revolver on the Talon agent. His heart hammered in his chest so hard he believed the thing would shatter his ribs. Reaper coughed violently and blackish red liquid oozed onto the pristine white floors. “Reyes?” McCree asked hesitantly, afraid of the truth.

“You look ridiculous.” The man behind the white mask snarled. 

“Looked in the mirror lately?” Frowning, Jesse lowed his weapon. Annoying tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. Using the motion to activate his communicator, McCree wiped them away. “Mercy! I need you now!”

Immediately the gentle but urgent called came across the line. “Where are you?”

“Back by the info desk. With the Rover.”

“I’m on my way.” Mercy would be quick. She always was. Even in this maze of hallways.

McCree knelt beside Reaper and started to staunch the dark blood like substance weeping through the holes he had made in his old mentor. Reyes weakly tried to pull away. Jesse stopped that by pulling him in tight. “Don’t worry, old man. I’ve got you.” And they waited in silence. Jesse with the hot tears of grief and frustration filling his eyes. Reyes struggling to take the next breath.

That’s how Angela found them. “Jesse?” she asked quietly, unsure of what she was seeing.

“Fix him!” McCree demanded, voice harsh and wavering with emotion he would rather not exist. 

“That’s Reaper!” recognition settled in with sharp focus. 

“It’s Reyes. Now fix him! Please.” Jesse knew his voice cracked.

“We don’t have time…”

“Fix him! Or I swear to god…. It’s Reyes, dammit. It’s Reyes!” Jesse could not let go of the body in his arms. He could not loose this man again.

Mercy relented and knelt next to them. She carefully removed the mask to gage the progress of her ministrations and gasped at the sight of the former Overwatch commander’s gruesome rotting flesh underneath. But what chilled them both were the eyes that clearly watched everything in view with a burning hatred. “What happened to you?” Angela was in doctor mode and though surprised she was clinical about it.

“You tell me, doc.” Reyes scowled, only ruined by a violent cough.

“This wasn’t what I intended.” Mercy’s bionic healing stream connected and within moments she turned it off. Reaper’s eyes were closed and his breathing was easier. “He will not thank us for this,” she said solemnly. “We must go now. Talon agents are already bringing back up. He will rest until they come and pick him up.” Angela replaced the white owlish mask and stood. “Come, Jesse. We must go.”

The gunslinger hesitated. This was Gabriel Reyes. Back from the dead. He could not simply leave him here. “But…”

“Now, Jesse. We can’t take on their back up alone. Tracer has the transport ready and the artifact is safe. Let us go!” She pulled Jesse by the back of his serape. 

“It’s Reyes!” Jesse repeated a terrible whine in his voice.

“I know. But we cannot stay. Please, Jesse, he’s stable. Let us go.” Finally the broad shouldered gunslinger gave in to the petite doctor’s insistent tug.

Shame faced he lumbered towards the transport with Mercy trotting beside him. After scrubbing his face with his serape, McCree tugged his hat low, not eager for any one to see evidence of his tears. Angela at least had the prudence to keep silent. Though there was much to talk about, answers to be demanded. Now was not the time. He had to grieve again for the mentor he had lost six long years ago and was now abandoning once more.

Once on the transport, McCree stalked to the furthest seat from the cockpit, rammed his hat firmly over his eyes and settled in for the long haul back to Gibraltar. As a courtesy to Tracer, he was secured by the seat’s harness. She never took off without the team being secured unless it was an emergency evacuation. This did not qualify. But McCree had silently announced to all onboard that he was not in the talking mood.

Soft chatter surrounded him. A few played the provided computer games. Someone was cooking, judging by the sizzling sounds. Smells did not make their way through the sweat and smoke stained leather hat. Angela’s refusals to answer the overshadowing question about McCree’s sullen attitude filtered through milieu. Though calls for him to join the meal were heard, none were answered. Finally they left him alone completely until the plane landed. 

The team filtered out of the transport, McCree trailing behind. Where the majority headed directly inside, the gunslinger deviated towards the ledge. The former Strike Commander had other plans. “McCree! The debriefing.” The urge to flick the old man off almost overwhelmed his self-control. Not that he had much to begin with. 

“Just give me five minutes,” he called back without turning around. Surprised his voice remained steady.

“You can have it after the debriefing.”

“I ain’t your soldier anymore, Morrison. I’m taking five measly minutes to smoke and get my head on straight. If you got a problem with that, then I’ll find a bullet with your name on it.” McCree snapped. From the corner of his eye, he saw Angela pulling Morrison back into the base. He was certain that if the good doctor had not intervened then a full on brawl would have taken place.

Wearily, Jesse dropped behind a boulder and gazed out at the ocean below. He almost couldn’t remember the first time he saw the ocean it felt so long ago. It was at this very Watchpoint, walking off a transport captured with a promise to use his skills rather than rot in handcuffs. 

McCree was thrust into a world he knew nothing about by a hard ass soldier who refused to let the kid from Deadlock get away with anything. Running the metal fingers across his eyes and nose brought an unwelcome scowl to his face. Hurriedly he lit the cigarillo and the nicotine and familiar actions relieved part of his tension. He willed the tears to stop falling. No one else would mourn with him.

He heard the soft padding of the metal soles on pavement long before he was ready to join the group. Genji could be silent when he wanted, but the ninja also knew that sneaking up on a highly stressed friend was not smart. “There is much to discuss and I am afraid Winston can no longer postpone the debriefing.”

Jesse snuffed the cigarillo and placed the stub in his pocket to finish later. He would not yell at his old friend. “Alright. Let’s get it over with.” He heaved himself to a standing position and joined Genji on the walk back to the base. There were questions on the tip of Genji’s tongue. His entire being radiated with the need to know, but he remained patient. For that Jesse was glad. All McCree had right now was questions himself. 

They settled into the briefing room. Holoscreens showing information about the mission. Papers and tablets scattered across the desk. The room itself was largely filled with the gorilla, Winston. He could not help but take up the majority of space wherever he went. Beside him was Morrison, back from the dead and already trying to be Strike Commander once more. Despite his claims otherwise. 

Around the table sat those who had been present for the mission. Angela, nearest to Jack and Winston. Closely followed by Hana, Lena, and Hanzo. Genji settled into a seat next to his brother leaving the empty chair next to Lena for him. McCree lowered his hat over his eyes and refused to participate from there. He did suppress the urge to prop his feet on the table just to spite Morrison.

From there he ignored the discussion about the mission. From the touch down to the deceptively empty museum. Lena and Genji finding the artifact first (McCree still didn’t know what it was). Talon agents swarming the area. Hanzo and McCree covering their retreat while Hana destroyed them from behind. It was all run of the mill until someone mentioned Jesse’s unusual request for Angela’s help towards the end. 

“McCree,” Morrison’s voice broke through Jesse’s thoughts with uncontained annoyance. “McCree! Why did you call Angela back?”

Jesse slowly tilted his hat back, just enough to see the scowl of a commanding officer ready to put to task an errant soldier. Well McCree was not a soldier. His voice was soft compared to the hardedge of Morrison’s, but it contained all the bite of a cottonmouth. “Reyes was following us.”

“Reyes?” Hana asked, ignorant of the importance of the name. “I thought Angela said Reaper was following us?”

“Reaper is Reyes.” Jesse’s tone was cold and he glared at Jack even as he answered Hana’s question. The room went still. It was a revelation to most of them. Morrison and Ziegler were unfazed. “You knew,” he accused.

“I encountered him when I investigated Hakim’s compound. Before I decided to join the recall effort.”

“You knew and you didn’t tell us?” Jesse’s rage was building.

“It was not pertinent to the missions.”

“Dammit, Jack! I shot him! “As he bolted upright, he thrust his chair back so hard it toppled to the floor. “Because you decided not to tell us, I shot Reyes!”

“Then it was for the best that I did not tell you. He is part of Talon now and we should treat him as such.” The dismissal of Gabriel Reyes as nothing more than a Talon agent burned McCree to the core.

“He is not simply Talon, Morrison. Because of you I shot him. He was my friend. Yours too. Hell, he was Overwatch. Probably more so than you.” McCree slammed his fist to the table. “You don’t go around shooting your friends.”

“He was Blackwatch. Him and his criminals betrayed and destroyed Overwatch.” Morrison shot back.

“Well excuse me for breathing,” McCree returned coldly through gritted teeth, ignoring the shocked faces from the table around him. None of them had ever seen more than the devil-may-care cowboy. “I was Blackwatch. And you threw us under the bus when we were no longer convenient for you.”

“Then you know what type of people they are. They are criminals who take no prisoners and care nothing for collateral damage.”

“They were Overwatch!”

“Now they’re Talon!”

“What were they supposed to go back to? Reyes at least tried to give them something to do. Did anyone think about what Blackwatch was going to do when Overwatch was disbanded?”

“McCree! Now is not the time!”

“It never is! It’s about damn time they understand the history you are trying to cover up. Overwatch brought in criminals. Reyes at least tried to give us some bigger purpose. You conveniently ignored us. Took our achievements as your own and blamed your failures on us!”

“Overwatch should never have started including criminals. They gave Overwatch the bad name that eventually brought it to ruin.”

“We were the ones to make sure your picture perfect publicity missions went off without a hitch. And when you guys managed to screw it up, you put the blame on us. Well guess what, Morrison. Whatever your claim of betrayal is, you screwed Blackwatch ten times over long before you blamed them for Overwatch’s fall. I fought with them. They were my brothers. Now I’m killing them. Think about that before you so casually dismiss them as Talon.”

“McCree! You’re out of line!” The shout into the stunned silence rattled through Jesse’s skull.

Without hesitation, the metal prosthetic hand flicked off the former Strike Commander as Jesse turned and stormed out of the conference room. “I ain’t your soldier. Never was.”

[\/][/\\]

The hush filled the conference room. No one knew exactly what to make of it. The durable little Hana Song broke the silence first. “I didn’t know McCree was Blackwatch. He seemed so… friendly. They always made Blackwatch agents out to be evil and cruel.” Murmurs of agreement followed.

Hanzo, having listened with the others uncomfortably, shifted to leave. Genji stopped him with a glance and a soft, “Oniisan?” Hanzo had learned in the mere month and a half since joining the Overwatch recall that the term Genji used to address his brother signaled the younger man’s mood. This formal address meant Genji was concerned.

Continuing in soft Japanese while the others quietly argued over what to do next, Hanzo explained. “I was not part of this organization. And I have some idea of what he is going through. He should not be left alone right now. Please, help them understand.” Hanzo left the room to a few curious stares, but no one stopped him. After a brief detour the archer found McCree on an isolated ledge farther from the compound. During the time of the debriefing the sun had started to set. 

The gunslinger reclined against the rocks watching the golden orb turn red as it dipped below the horizon. His hat drawn low across his eyes and smoke from his cigarillo rising around it. Hanzo made no attempt to hide his approach and as such McCree asked dully, “What d’you want?”

“Considering how much you smoke, I surmised that you would know the acceptable places.” Hanzo settled down uninvited and began to pack his slender pipe.

“Didn’t know you smoked.” A hint of surprised fused into the preoccupied voice.

“On occasion.” They passed the time quietly.

McCree snuffed his cigarillo and lit another. “Wish they wouldn’t be so darn hypocritical about it. Blackwatch did everything and got credit for nothing. It’s not like we had a choice in the matter neither. It was maximum-security prison or work for Blackwatch. But they don’t care that most of us don’t have a place to go but back to what made us criminal in the first place.”

“Sounds like you blame them.”

“Naw. I just wish in their talk about family and support they understood that us in Blackwatch were our own family. Sometimes our only family. They never included us. I was one of the lucky ones, I guess. Morrison needed a sharpshooter and pulled Reyes and me. Caught the eye of Captain Amari.” McCree sighed and took a long drag on the cigarillo to steady himself. “Might not see the faces behind Talon masks, but I know ‘em. And they know me. Reyes ain’t the first comrade I shot dead. And ain’t gonna be the last. But those kids never worked with them. But they need to understand what they’re getting into.” McCree’s voice was more tired than angry now.

“Agreed. It is a burden to understand the enemy as only a friend would. But you are not the only one trying to correct a criminal past.” Hanzo took a deep breath, wondering if he was willing to volunteer such intimate information about his past. He exhaled a long stream of smoke. Instead he kept it distant. “It is not an easy burden to bear to love those who must now be considered the enemy.”

McCree sighed heavily and shifted his hat back to rub his face with a gloved hand. “Conversation like this needs a drink.”

“I anticipated.” Hanzo removed a bottle and two small cups from the case he had retrieved from his room. “Sake,” he said pouring them both a cup. “It is considered poor practice to drink alone. Please. Enjoy.” Hanzo gestured to the cup as an offering. 

“Mighty kind of ya.” McCree lifted the cup and took a sip. “You know, that sake’s not half bad, but I prefer a little bite to my liquor.”

Hanzo snorted. “How predictable! Such an unsophisticated taste.” When McCree belted out laughter, Hanzo cracked a small smile in amusement.

“Well next time I’ll get you some good old Kentucky bourbon. Or better yet, some old fashion washtub moonshine.” McCree chuckled taking another sip of sake.

“That sounds deplorable.” Hanzo countered. “If given the choice, I will take you up on the bourbon.” In their second cup the archer felt the need to clear of a persistent question of his. Now that the gunslinger seemed to be in a more affable mood, it seemed like a good time. “So why such anachronistic clothing? Why an American Cowboy?”

“Asks the bow wielding samurai.” McCree arched an eyebrow towards the archer.

“Ninja.” He corrected. Yet Hanzo tilted his head in acceptance of absurdity in the question.

“Same difference.” McCree shrugged. “In case you haven’t noticed in a world where things keep trying to be the same, people cling to their ancient differences. We’re not the only ones to find comfort in our cultural history nor to celebrate it. You got Medieval Japan. Numbani looks like space age tribalism. I was born and raised in the American Southwest. So sue me if I am comfortable with my heritage. We don’t like being the same.”

“I suppose you have a point.” Hanzo sighed. He had been raised in the tradition of what the world called Medieval Japan, learning skills no one in modern times found a need for. “To our heritage.”

“Cheers to that.” McCree lifted his cup in a toast.

Together they finished the bottle of sake and smoked until sated. It was an easy quiet between them now. The rage that had come to a head in the conference room had subsided and McCree was back to his easygoing carelessness. The questions still unanswered though, but Hanzo believed the gunslinger might be more willing to talk civilly now. The archer even thought it safe to ask, “What kind of man was this Gabriel Reyes?”

“Military hardass with a streak of humor a mile wide.” McCree smiled in memory. “Can’t tell you all the times he reamed my ass for doing something stupid and then I catch him doing the same thing the next day while saving my ass.” There was fondness in how the gunslinger remembered his mentor.

Hanzo chuckled. “Sounds like a worthy individual. I am glad you hold such memories of him.”

“Yeah… ain’t no one else who wants to remember him. I mean he was a kid from Hollywood. Handmade costumes. A six-string guitar. Could drink anyone under the table. But he was also a military man. Ran a tight ship. No one got away with sloppy work. I mean, we weren’t the best on discipline when we arrived in Blackwatch, but we sure did keep in line for Reyes. At times.” McCree chuckled, no doubt at some memory he wasn’t quite willing to share. The gunslinger sighed and snuffed his cigarillo. “Hey, Hanzo? Thanks. Didn’t mean to keep you out half the night.”

“Believe me, if it was not something I already planned on then I would not have.” Hanzo too emptied his pipe and started to collect the sake cups and jug. “I hope your future conversations with the others are less… quarrelsome.”

“You and me both.” They parted in companionable silence, though Hanzo detected tension in McCree’s back as the gunslinger considered his prospects for the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> McCree holding a dying Reaper artwork found on Pintrest and sourced to radikal.ru Really wanted to write a scene for that the moment I saw it. Basically started the whole intro.
> 
> Really nice artwork of McCree crying and wiping tears away with the metal arm found on Pintrest sourced to Burythekidd on tumblr. Found the artwork after I wrote the scene and just thought it was perfect.
> 
> Follow me on tumblr at slytherinladyknight  
> https://slytherinladyknight.tumblr.com


	2. Amends

**[/\\][\/] Chapter Two: Amends**

It took two days before McCree felt composed enough to search out Angela. Before that the very thought of how Doctor Ziegler had known about Reyes boiled his insides. He still did not think he could speak to Morrison without engaging in a yelling match. He would demand his answers. He just needed to know the right questions. 

From the door to her medical bay, McCree called out, “Angela. I need you to spare a few moments.”

Angela sighed and placed her book aside. “I was wondering when you would come.” Her office was neat and orderly as expected. The number of paper books surprised him. He did not think many people still used them.

“Sorry. I know I got out of hand. It just…” McCree stalled in his apology. Angela motioned to the chair in front of her desk. She was the picture of poise, a center for the storm that raged in McCree’s soul. White blonde hair pulled back into a neat tail, clean pressed lab coat over her conservative work attire. Blue eyes soft and a hint of a pain hiding behind them. Meeting Gabriel Reyes after all those years thinking him dead had hurt her soul as well.

“I am sorry, Jesse. I did not intend to keep this from everyone.” Ever proper, Dr. Ziegler gave her full attention to Jesse, but never to the point that it felt like an intrusion. “But we did not have all the answers and I did not want to give incorrect information. It wasn’t until Jack arrived that I better understood much of what has happened. Even now I still do not have all the answers. But I suppose you are here asking why I was not surprised about Gabriel.” A layer of annoyance filtered through Angela’s voice when she spoke of the soldier. Apparently she had not forgiven Jack Morrison either for faking his death.

Jesse took a seat hesitantly, surprised by her insight. “That about sums it up. What do you know?” The hard edge to his voice returned.

“I spoke to Jack after your argument and learned more about what happened after the explosion. I honestly thought he was dead. That they both were. The explosion is still not fully explained. But when we found Gabriel the United States government wanted their Enhanced Soldiers back. They also wanted me to test the resurrection technology I had been working on with the United Nations. Gabriel was the first human test. The enhancements he had received made him an excellent candidate.” Angela stopped to pin Jesse with an accusatory state. He had somehow upset her just by listening. 

“Do not look at me like that. He might have been a mere test subject to the United States, but I was trying to save a friend. The technology was not as untested as you might think. Gabriel was badly burned from the explosion. Though somehow his enhanced body clung to life where I had been certain he had long since perished. Of course I was not allowed access to the full extent of the enhancements, but with the resurrection technology I was able to restore the regenerative properties that we consider life. Gabriel seemed to return to himself. But within hours his body started to deteriorate. Faster than before. They declared him a failure. It was horrifying.” Angela gripped her fists together while reliving the memory. 

Jesse was sorry she had to suffer because of his demands, but he needed to know everything he could if he were to face Reyes again. He didn’t push though. He let her have the moments of silence to reach her calm. “What happened?” He finally asked gently after the good doctor had taking a steady breath and returned her gaze to him.

“We found Gabriel half buried under concrete and burning rubble. I’m sure you have seen victims of fire. Second and third degree burns over sixty percent of his body. His uniform protected him more than I expected. I had not known Blackwatch uniforms were flame retardant.”

“Prepared for anything.” McCree quirked a small smile in memory.

“Well I cannot even begin to estimate what his lungs looked like.” Angela sighed. “It was all spur of the moment. The U.S. military was crawling around the hull of the Headquarters searching for survivors like us. Of course they were really searching for their enhanced soldiers. We found Gabriel about the same time. They demanded I use the experimental treatment. My normal healing methods were not working. I was loosing him. I really did not have much else to loose. It was not a controlled environment. I set up the regeneration field and watched as Gabriel slowly suffocated in front of my very eyes. It was the downfall of the resurrection technology that it only worked after the patient died.”

“I’m sorry, Angela.”

“I know.” The doctor gave a tiny smile in response. What amazed Jesse was that she kept going with the horrific story. “I thought it had worked. Gabriel’s flesh appeared to heal. He breathed easier. Everything appeared normal. Then he started failing. I tried everything I could. I even tried the resurrection technology again, but he deteriorated. As if every cell in his body rejected life. He did not simply die, Jesse. He vanished. We watched him decompose before our very eyes. I was certain my technology had caused it. I know there is only small window of time for it to work. Thinking back over the trials with Gabriel… I cannot be sure if I had been within the window.” Angela had to wipe tears from her eyes as the memories proved too sharp and painful.

McCree allowed her to regain her composure. He had not known this had happened. All he knew was what he had learned in the papers while on the run. Perhaps he had made the wrong choice. It wasn’t the first time he had wondered if things could have been different if he had stayed. “So you told no one else about how Reyes died?”

“You have to understand, Jesse, I had been sworn to secrecy upon agreeing to those trials. And you had already disappeared by that point. There really wasn’t away to inform you of the changes. You were not even at the funerals. Not that I could blame you. The American government was searching for you with quite a high bounty.” Angela sighed. “Does that assist you at all?”

Jesse’s fist clenched as he listened. He knew he had been absent. It had been for his own survival.“If you had been sworn to secrecy why are you telling me this now?” It was honestly more information that Jesse had expected. And a lot to take in.

“Well obviously Gabriel is alive. And I do not feel beholden to the United States government after they kept the results of my trials from me. At least I think we can call Gabriel alive.”

“So you had not seen Reyes before that night?”

“You are correct. I had spoken to Jack prior to that and he informed me as to Reaper and Gabriel being the same person. It was still surprising to see him first hand. And in such a condition.” Angela paused and turned her full attention on Jesse. This time it made the gunslinger antsy. Like the good doctor could read deep into his soul. “In all this, I suppose we have forgotten to ask how you are doing.”

“Just peachy.” The gunslinger growled.

“Jesse… your mental health is just as important as physical health. If you do not feel comfortable talking to me, please consider someone you trust.”

Standing and tipping his hat, McCree said seriously, “Might be a little hard to find one of those, all things considered.”

“I suppose you are going to find Jack now. Try not to blame him too much. When he encounter Reaper…. Well Reaper attempted to kill him and I do not think Reaper will stop until all of the former Overwatch agents are dead.”

Jesse scowled and let the statement sit with him as he turned to walk out the door. Good intentions aside, Angela had been involved in turning Reyes into the monstrosity of life that now haunted McCree’s dreams.

[/\\][\/]

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell them.” The stern voice of Ana Amari came over the satellite phone she had set up. She was back in the temple complex in Egypt reviewing all their information about Reaper’s activities.

“What was I supposed to tell them? You want me to tell them about you?” Jack groused through the headset.

“I’ll handle that when the day comes,” Ana dismissed. If finding out not only Morrison but now Reyes had survived their supposed deaths, what would McCree do when he learned his mentor Captain Amari had also survived and kept the secret from all who knew her. Jack was not certain Ana knew what she was facing.

“But seriously, Ana, what was I supposed to tell him? That Reyes had turned terrorist?”

“To be fair, Blackwatch was always more on the terrorist end of the spectrum, so it was not a far jump. Do we even know how he turned into that wraith?” Ana was curt with her assessment and Jack appreciated her honesty.

“I haven’t been able to access any SEP files yet. If they were involved then it is unlikely we will know anything.”

“You’d better do something if you plan on staying with them much longer,” Ana chided. 

“I know. I wasn’t planning on staying, but Winston seems to think they need another person to manage the missions.”

“Admit it, Jack. You miss it.”

“I…” A knock at his door stopped his denial. “I gotta go.” He ended the call with Ana to help preserve her secret longer.

“Morrison. We need to talk.” McCree’s voice filtered through the door. Jack sighed and made sure all evidence of his conversation with Ana was removed from sight before opening the door.

“McCree. I suppose you want an apology.” He faced the cowboy, his arms crossed. Unyielding in his decisions.

“No. I’m looking for something a bit more complicated. You owe me one hell of an explanation.” McCree casually leaned against the opposing wall. If they weren’t indoors he would be smoking.

Jack stepped out into the hall and clicked his door shut firmly. He took in the cowboy that had abandoned Gabriel and Blackwatch all those years ago. All signs of Deadlock finally gone from his person. The ridiculous hat still in place. McCree had become a scruffier version of the young man Morrison remembered. But no less deadly. The easygoing charm was ever present even now when he was demanding. Jack knew better than anyone that the careless demeanor could change in an instant should the occasion call for it. 

“Let’s take a walk.” Jack turned his back on McCree and found his way through the familiar halls of Gibraltar. In stiff silence they walked together up to the rooftops over looking the straights. “I remember when you first arrived here.” McCree snorted and Jack heard the click of a lighter. That was what he had intended. As much as Jack hated the smoke, McCree was easier to talk to when the cowboy had his habit to fall back on.

“Mind telling me what this has to do with you not telling us that Reyes was still alive and going under the name Reaper?” McCree blew out a long smoke trail in annoyance.

“I’m getting to that. Though it shouldn’t be hard to understand given your own disappearance.”

“Yeah… I never pretended to be dead.”

“No. But you are wanted by many different organizations and the rumor of your death would stop them from hunting you down.”

“Not unless they had my body on display.” McCree dropped to the edge of the roof and let his legs dangle. Jack knew he was referring to Deadlock.

“As I was saying,” Jack turned the discussion away from the terroristic arms dealers. “I made Gabe bring you here because I didn’t trust you in Switzerland. You were still a young punk with no respect for authority.”

“Just not your authority.” McCree jabbed at Jack with the lit cigarillo.

Jack let it slide, point well taken. “I’m sure you have seen the obituaries saying that I could bring out the best in everyone. Well, I don’t believe them. When I first saw you I wondered what Gabe was thinking. I looked at you and was certain you belonged in prison with the rest of the gang. But Gabriel Reyes was something else. He could see the potential in people. Whatever happened between you two in Deadlock made him believe you could be more. And he was right. You did become more.

“I’m telling you this because I want you to understand that Gabe wanted you to reach your potential. Did everything he could to push you to it. The two of you had a relationship I admired. One of complete trust in the other. It reminded me of the old guard during the Omnic Crisis. We all looked to Gabe for direction and motivation then. I didn’t want to ruin what you had with Gabe.” Jack frowned at the memories. There were too many sorrowful ones.

“I don’t know why every newspaper in the world chose to villainize the man after the explosion.” Morrison continued. “When I first met him afterwards as Reaper, I was disappointed. He was angry. I get that.” Jack paused and tried to find his line of reasoning again. “No, I didn’t tell you about the incident because I didn’t think it mattered. When I got the information about the Talon raid on the museum, I did not think that Reaper would be there. Unlike the incident with the Gauntlet, this sounded minor. And I knew that if you had known that Reaper was once Gabriel then I know you would not have been able to treat him like the enemy he has made himself into.”

“What do you mean ‘made himself into?’” McCree scowled. The former Strike Commander was impressed that the cowboy had remained listening for so long.

“He blames us for becoming the way he is now. I’m not sure exactly what happened. Or who it extends to. But he has chosen to seek out and kill former Overwatch members.”

“That does not sound like him.”

“No. It does not sound like Gabriel Reyes. But he does not see things the same any more.” Jack let McCree absorb the explanation in silence. It was a lot to take in. If it hadn’t been for Ana intervening, then Jack was certain Reaper would have finished him off. Whatever their friendship had been before the explosion, it was now to be bitter enemies in Reaper’s mind. Part of Jack was sorry that it had come to this. He still remembered the moments leading up to the explosion clearly. They were burned into his mind.

][

_“Blackwatch was suspended for a reason!” The desk between them seemed a flimsy barrier. This was an old argument and their voices rang throughout the halls. Just the Strike Commander and the Blackwatch Commander having yet another disagreement. “You can’t invade a country’s boarders on a whim!”_

_“I was doing what Overwatch is supposed to do! Saving lives, preventing humanitarian crises. I’m being proactive. We can’t keep reacting to events after hundreds get killed!” It hadn’t always been like this. Reyes and Morrison used to fully understand and support each other. Regulation and forced inactivity pushed Reyes to the breaking point._

_“Well thanks to you and your criminals, Overwatch is about to be disbanded! You caused an international incident.”_

_“Criminals? They are the best damn agents you got! They stopped genocide!” Reyes defended his team to the last._

_“They murdered government officials! They should go to prison. They should have gone to prison in the first place and not joined Overwatch.” Morrison had made this point many times in the past few months._

_“Those men and women are good people with exceptional skill that did not have the luck to have the wholesome Boy Scout upbringing you did. You even approved of them.”_

_“At the time I thought you could keep them under control. Apparently my faith in your decisions was wrong. And how many Blackwatch agents have gone AWOL now?” Jack frowned as he thought about the missing. “McCree has not been heard from in weeks. Genji vanished months ago. And I hear at least five more have returned to the criminal organizations you were supposed to shutdown.”_

_“If you stopped calling them criminals, they might have a reason to stick around. Genji has a family vendetta to settle—“_

_“That’s exactly the problem!” Jack interrupted. “He is a highly weaponized, highly classified cyborg ninja and you let him go back to that yakuza family of his.”_

_“He is a person, Jack! I’m not going to stop him from settling old scores. And if you did your job then those organizations I shut down would not have rebuilt.” Gabriel was leaning over the desk, invading the Strike Commander’s space in an effort to make a point._

_“My Job is to follow the rules. Something you clearly do not care about. This isn’t war, Gabe. Doing anything and everything to get the job done doesn’t cut it anymore. There are stable governments now. Laws that must be followed. The world is at peace.”_

_Reyes snorted in dark amusement. “Peace? You call countless terrorist attacks peace? You call government’s allowing the deaths of hundreds to thousands peace? We are not at peace, Jack. Not with weapons and human and omnic trafficking.”_

_“But we are not an organization that can interfere without the expressed permission of the nation involved. We can present the evidence but we can’t simply impose what we think is right.”_

_“You know, Jack, the bureaucracy really did a number on your head.”_

_“No, Gabe. I accepted that the war we fought is over. This is a different world.”_

_“You know as well as I that the war is never over. It just takes a new name.” Gabriel turned wearily away from the desk, clearly intending to end the argument._

_Jack was about to continue when he noticed that in the stillness Reyes had cocked his head as if listening for some faint sound just beyond range. The Strike Commander tensed. He had seen this posture on the battlefield al those years ago._

_“Gabe?” The Blackwatch Commander held up his hand sharply to silence the other soldier. Then in a flurry of movement Reyes leapt onto the desk and shoved aside the ceiling tiles. “What is it?” Jack demanded._

_“A device. Dammit. I can’t reach it.” Gabriel’s voice came down muffled before he emerged to grab the office chair. Swiftly he dropped it onto the touchscreen desk, heedless of the expensive equipment. “Hold that,” he ordered as he climbed up to start fiddling with the unknown device._

_“Gabe?” No answer. Jack needed to know what was going on so he could get a plan in motion. “Gabe!” He tried again. Nothing but the clanging of metal and plastic. “Gabriel!”_

_“I’m working… shit…” the muffled curse sent off more alarm bells in Jack’s senses than the next words. “Order a base wide evacuation. Now, Morrison!”_

_And suddenly they were back on the front lines of the Omnic Crisis. Jack pulled up Athena and the sirens blared. “This is Strike Commander Morrison. This is not a drill, repeat this is not a drill. Evacuate the premises immediately." Athena captured the line and set it on repeat even as she announced the evacuation. “Now, what is going on up there?”_

_“Multiple bombs. Likely in more than one area on base.” Gabriel continued to try and diffuse the current bomb. After several moments he jumped off the chair. Landing beside the Strike Commander, Gabriel had a pensive look that Jack did not like._

_“Well?” Jack prompted._

_“I’m sorry, Jack.” Gabriel said softly before suddenly grabbing Jack by the seams of his shirt and hurled him headlong through the window._

_Shards of glass ripped through the skin and clothing with little resistance. Jack caught a painful glance of Gabriel running to leap out of the window just as the first explosion destroyed everything in its path. Flames and debris engulfed the Blackwatch Commander, removing Reyes from sight. The blast launched Jack further into the courtyard as more explosions demolished the white walls of the Overwatch Headquarters._

][

McCree had finished his cigarillo and was now regarding the butt in contemplation. Jack was not going to interrupt. He just hoped the cowboy would understand his rationale. It might not have been the best decision he had ever made, but he could not take it back. 

“So. How much longer are you going to stay here? Seeing as how you think Overwatch was nothing but a mistake.” McCree finally broke the silence with the one question Jack did not have a good answer to. No matter what he thought of Overwatch’s current activities, Morrison was doing much the same along side Ana Amari. 

“Hard to say.” Jack conceded. “Winston means well, but he is a scientist. He doesn’t have the same knowledge of military operations.” Damn, well now Jack would have to admit to Ana that he did indeed miss this.

McCree cracked a small smile beneath his scruffy beard. “Yeah. Strange how bounty hunting turns military. You never did stop being a soldier.” McCree stretched back, still watching the ocean rather than look towards Morrison. “Guess I can’t fault you for your decisions. Can’t say I agree with them either. But if you’re going to take the lead in place of Winston then I expect you to be more honest with your information.”

“Duly noted.” Jack breathed in relief. Ever since the argument at the debriefing, he had been anxious about dealing with McCree. It seemed the Kid from Deadlock had matured beyond Morrison’s expectations.

Winston’s voice sounded over the soldier’s earpiece, breaking the meager camaraderie building between him and the cowboy. “Uh, Jack?”

“What is it, Winston?” Morrison acknowledged. He did not miss how McCree cocked his head and listened to the one sided conversation intently.

“I, uh, wanted you to know that Genji has returned the blueprints to Lucheng Interstellar. No sign of Talon.”

“That is good news. Any luck with the data chips?” That caught McCree’s ear. Morrison wondered if this was the first McCree was hearing of the results of their mission to Lijiang Tower. Then again, the cowboy had not been paying attention during the debriefing so it very well could be.

“Lucio and I have unlocked some interesting information. I believe you should come read it for yourself.” Winston sounded hesitant over the comlink. Jack wondered what had the gorilla concerned.

“On my way,” Jack returned. To McCree he gave a small frown, trying to decide what the cowboy needed to know. “McCree, Winston has some information I think you might find interesting. I’m sure Winston will agree that things should be as transparent as possible.” Jack watched as the gunslinger heaved his way to standing. McCree tucked the cigarillo butt away to dispose of it properly later. Apparently Winston had got on to him about littering the compound with that trash. Perhaps between Angela and Winston, they could cure McCree of his smoking habit.

“Got nothing better to do.” Together with a greater understanding of the other, they walked to Winston’s main console. Jack was certain that whatever information they had taken from the Talon agent, it would give them a better understanding of Talon’s ultimate goals.


	3. Planning

**[\/][/\\] Chapter Three: Planning**

Winston was still sorting through the code when Morrison arrived. It was Lucio’s enthusiastic greeting that alerted the scientist. “Hello, hello! Winston said you’d be coming up. Let’s show them what we got.”

Glancing up from his screens, Winston saw that Jack had brought McCree with him. It was an odd pair considering the discord between them only days before. But then any harmony between the cowboy and the soldier would be welcomed. “Yes, uh, just a moment.” Winston carefully adjusted the code to a more user friendly format. “The chip Genji lifted off the Talon troop leader has a good bit of information. We have barely scratched the surface, but, uh, as you can see the organization is planning on a large scale meeting. Of some sort.”

Lucio picked up the explanation from there. “We got a date. We got a size and that Talon leaders are required to attend. It’s gonna be massive. I didn’t even know they were this big. They rival Vishkar in regards to management. I’d hate to go up against them if they were a legitimate organization.”

“Somehow, I don’t think that’d stop you,” McCree chuckled.

“Probably not.” Lucio shrugged and continued. “We know there is information about a location and the goal of the meeting, but we haven’t deciphered it yet.”

“Athena is still trying to unravel the firewalls and encryptions. It is taking quite a bit of her computing power. So I have, uh, already apologized to the others if their requests go unanswered or are delayed.” Winston pushed his glass to sit more securely on his nose. Morrison had taken all this in silently and was reading what little information they had on screen.

“I see,” he said finally. “We’re going to need more assistance than what you currently have.”

“Yes, uh, I have already sent out requests to those that responded to the Recall but could not arrive for whatever reason. And a couple more organizations have reached out offering assistance, though I am, uh, not entire surely we should accept.” Winston readjusted on the tire used as a chair. Those offers were highly unusual.

The former Strike Commander turned away from the screen to study Winston. It made the gorilla slightly uncomfortable, as if his executive decisions were being questioned. “Who did you contact?” was all Jack asked.

“Well, uh, Torbjorn finally returned the Recall request. Said he had a interesting project to study and would appreciate another opinion.”

Jack chuckled to himself. “Always with another project.”

Relieved that Morrison was not questioning his decisions so far, Winston continued with the list of others who were trying to make their way to Gibraltar. “Reinhardt confirmed that he and Brigitte were on the way. Fareeha mentioned that Helix had given permission for her to assist Overwatch should the need arise. Apparently when Talon attempted to access Anubis they realized how much greater the threat really was. She should be arriving any day.”

“I have not seen Fareeha in years. How is she?” Jack’s nostalgia was infectious.

Winston smiled. “Still a bright spot to many. She is a Captain now within Helix. From everything she has told me, she is satisfied with her accomplishments. And she sounds excited to see the others. I think she is secretly wanting to show off, like always.”

“Sounds like she hasn’t changed a bit.” Jack glanced back at the screen. “You said other organizations have reached out to you. Who?”

Lucio broke in first. “Well, strangely enough Vishkar has expressed an interest in reviewing Overwatch’s operations to ensure it is maintaining peace and harmony rather than perpetuating chaos.”

“Odd. Though a world where they do not have to deal with terrorists would suit their purposes. I suspect Talon has attempted to reach into their organization as well.” Jack swiped through the screens until he pulled up the Vishkar homepage. He seemed to be re-familiarizing himself of their capabilities. “I take it you have not accepted.”

“Not yet. It did not seem, uh, prudent to outright refuse,” Winston explained.

Lucio rolled his eyes. “We should have.”

“Never turn down help.” Jack admonished. “Simply recognize what their ulterior motives might be. There may come a time when the need of their architects outweigh the damage their foothold could cause. And the others?”

“Just the Russian Defense Forces and Volskaya Industries.” Winston listed them together. “It seems Volskaya Industries has had a brush with Talon though they want it to remain hushed in public channels. They offered to send assistance so long as we do not mention their involvement and seek to end Talon’s terroristic efforts. Apparently our Recall effort is just the cover they need.”

“Hmm. Again, I guess you have not accepted.”

“No, not yet. Until we are no longer considered illegal under the U.N. Petras Act, I did not think it proper to accept official government aid.” Winston shifted his bulk as he waited for Morrison to make a decision.

Finally Jack nodded. “Probably for the best. Though why are Lucio and Hana here if that is the case?”

“Hey! I’m a freelance musician and rabble rouser. This is what I do!” Lucio defended his choice. Those in the room shared in the amusement, indulgent smiles or chuckles. As an entertainer, Lucio was not affiliated with governments and he had already staged a revolt against Vishkar to the joy of his fanbase. 

“And Hana Song might be part of the Korean Army’s Mobile Exo-Force,” Winston explained, “but apparently they give exceptionally free license to their MEKA pilots in terms of their careers and personal life. Hana is free to do as she pleases unless the Omnic that threatens Korea’s coastline reemerges. That’s when they call back all their pilots. Once the threat is contained, they are free to do what they were doing. Apparently Hana has a fanbase that enjoys watching her stream live battles. I’ve, uh, asked her to hold off streaming some activities. She records them but at the moment I discourage posting them as they could be considered proof of illegal Overwatch activity. But she believes strongly in our mission here and I feel that her positive attitude could help bring Overwatch out of the current illegality.”

“Very well then, Winston. This is your operation now.” Jack sighed and Winston could see that the words were painful to the former Strike Commander. “If you need advise you know I am here. Keep up the good work. I’m sure you two and Athena will uncover Talon’s secrets.” With that Jack left the console room. Winston wondered why Jack continued to involve himself but also push himself away from an organization he had loved. 

[\/][/\\]

The transport Fareeha flew through the skies was small compared to the massive troop transports she was used to riding in. This was just large enough for two pilots, though she was alone, and the cargo space for her suit. An upgraded Raptora Mark VI. She had assisted in installing her upgrades, working with the engineers on how to keep the suit suitable to her needs rather than overloading the systems with what they deemed important. Impressive firepower was wonderful, but not if it took away from the mobility of the jumpjets.

Still, she could not stop the butterflies in her stomach. It might not officially be Overwatch anymore, but Fareeha was heading towards Gibraltar. She was Helix Security’s placement within the Recall effort. It was almost what she dreamed of as a little girl running through the halls of the Switzerland Headquarters.

Blues skies speckled with ghostly clouds and crystal waters glittering in the afternoon sun welcomed her as she spotted the rocky coastline where destination waited. Her radio crackled with static as connected to the Watchpoint’s Comtower. 

“Pharah, reporting. Winston are you there?” she called out.

A moment of silence then an energetic, “Lucio, comin’ at you! Winston’s gone out to meet you, Pharah. Welcome to Gibraltar!”

“You have my thanks.” Sure enough as Pharah approached the landing pad the great gorilla was waiting for her. Others she could not quite make out from this distance stood beside him. “Approaching landing speed in two minutes.”

“Got it covered,” Lucio started his call outs to get her craft properly situated for landing. With the jets turned for vertical landing, it did not take long until she we settled on the ground, clamoring to exit the plane to say hello to her old friends.

Winston was first in line enveloping her in the biggest hug she had ever had. His deep rumbling voice filled her with joy. “It is good to see you again, Fareeha. Welcome to Watchpoint: Gibraltar. Sorry it’s such a mess. I-I wasn’t expecting company. At least not so quickly. But welcome.”

“It’s good to see you too, Winston. I’ve always dreamed of being stationed here. It’s wonderful!” Fareeha gave the furry neck another tight squeeze of affection before turning to the others. “Angela!” She grinned as she took the petite Swiss doctor’s hands. “I feel like it’s been forever!”

“Fareeha! How are you? It is so good to see you again.” Angela brought Fareeha into a warm hug. “Last time I saw you were you so little.”

“Hey, just because last you saw me was before I left for college does not make me little!” Fareeha defended herself. Their age difference was not that great.

“Oh I know,” Angela pulled away. Her smile cheery and eyes shining with memory. “I just never saw you after that. Then I heard you went into the military. It just feels like it has been so long ago now.”

“Tell me about it.” Glancing at the other faces at the welcome committee, Fareeha was surprised to see a famous public figure. “Hey, you’re Hana Song.”

“The one and only!” the small Korean grinned brightly. “Came to help out, just like you!”

Laughing, Fareeha shook her head in amazement. “They’ll never forgive me back at Helix if I don’t send them a picture of this. We got some fans of _Hero of my Storm_ back at base.”

“Sure thing. Hey, Lucio! Hurry up and get over here for a selfie!” Hana called out to the brightly colored young man with larger than life dreads skating his way down from the Comtower.

“Hey! Not gonna miss out on that! Hey there, Pharah! I’m Lucio.” The energy from the musician was contagious and Fareeha found herself grinning even wider.

“Fareeha.” She beamed at the young man with the mound of dreads bouncing to a rhythm only he knew. “Two celebrities working with Overwatch. What did Winston bribe you with?”

“Hey now. No bribing was involved.” Winston denied to the laughter of all present. He sheepishly pushed his glasses up. “Oh, right… Well they would not take bananas and peanut butter anyway.” The merriment continued as the others helped unload the Raptora suit and tow the transport to the hanger. Fareeha was thrilled to be among them. She was assured that she would see the others by dinnertime as many of them had gone out for the day. Others were occupied with planning for the mission that Winston had asked for her help on. It definitely would not be a boring couple of days.

[\/][/\\]

Morrison stood before the holovid where the specs for their next mission were mapped out. After going over the details gleaned from the Talon data chips, Winston had confessed that he felt unqualified to make the pivotal decisions regarding the mission. The scientist had requested that Morrison take the lead. Jack couldn’t decide how he felt about the matter. He had accepted and then listened to Ana alternately chide him for returning to the Strike Commander position and supporting his choice to help the cobbled together team.

Jack had pressed her to come to Gibraltar and assist. He knew they would need her wisdom and guarding eyes. She had refused of course, but Jack could hear her wavering in that decision. As much as she joked about Jack missing the Overwatch days, he knew Ana missed them almost as much. Perhaps more so now that she heard her daughter had joined the effort. Perhaps a reconciliation would be in order. It pained Jack to see his old friend long after her daughter when both were alive and well.

The main console room had been cleaned up for the briefing. The majority of the team was present, but not all of them would go. Due to the nature of the mission and because of the difficulties with Blackwatch in the past, Winston made the decision that if any mission required such expertise then as many agents as possible would be present during the briefings. Jack had agreed. After the fiasco with McCree regarding Reaper, Morrison had made the decision to try and be as forthcoming with all information to all team members. Whenever possible. It would make planning difficult. Sometimes executive choices had to be made regardless of the feelings of those involved.

As Jack regarded those present, he lamented that Reinhardt and Torbjorn had not made it to the Watchpoint yet. Their expertise and knowledge would have been useful. Still he was glad for those present. Their voices would offer different perspectives on the proposal he had concocted with Winston.

“Last encounter with Talon, we picked up information about a meeting with their higher-ups. The downfall is that we do not have all the information that we would want. I propose we send in agents to observe and attempt to uncover their next steps. We cannot be simply reactive to their plans. I propose sending a three man team in with three on the outskirts to aid in quick escapes.”

There weren’t many who could pull off such an infiltration. They had no Blackwatch anymore. This was the type of mission Reyes handled. Rather Gabriel would have come to Jack with the results of this mission before Jack had even known the mission had taken place. Morrison was loathed to admit that he had no knowledge of how Reyes would have accomplished it. Perhaps he had been too reliant upon his friend and former commander. He had not attempted to learn what it took to run the Blackwatch division. 

When no one posed opposition, presumably waiting for further information before making the decision, Jack continued. “For the assist I want Lena, Fareeha, and Hana. Your firepower and mobility will be needed if the others get into trouble. Lucio, I’d like you and Angela to be on call for the worst case scenario. For the infiltration team I want Genji, Hanzo, and McCree.” The first two were accepted without a bat of an eye. The moment he said McCree’s name, everyone at the table had surprised looks or vocalizations. Except McCree, Hanzo and Genji. They were silent.

“Jesse couldn’t sneak into an open barn,” Hana said. “No offense, but we all hear you a mile away.” She gave him a half smile in apology. McCree waved it off unaffected by her observation.

“I understand your concern but they are the best we’ve got for infiltration.” Jack defended his plan. Had he really relied on Blackwatch so much for these information gathering missions? Of those present only the two trained ninjas and the former Blackwatch cowboy had any experience in clandestine missions.

“I just have trouble seeing Jesse as an infiltrator,” Lucio added to the skepticism. The boy was good at inciting crowds to riot, but he would never be able to disappear in a crowd.

“Hey now,” McCree protested finally. Still not taking true offense to their objections, but not wanting his talents be reduced to myth. “It’s not like I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“He was a Blackwatch operative,” Jack clarified. As if those present had not listened to the impassioned speech Jesse had given in defense of Gabriel Reyes and Blackwatch. Even Fareeha, who had not been present, would have heard of the story from those who had. “He does have the knowledge. We just need to make sure he still has the skills.” The former Strike Commander pinned the cowboy with a look that he knew McCree despised. It was one he had given many times in the past that warned him to get his act together or get killed.

“Why do you have to make it out like I’m incompetent?” McCree lamented, leaning forward and tilting his had back to emphasize his sincerity.

Genji chuckled from where he sat across from the cowboy. “That’s because you are not a ninja.” The mechanical haze blurred his voice but not enough to filter out the cyborg’s sheer amusement. Also another former Blackwatch agent. Jack was not sure how much the others knew of Shimada’s time in Blackwatch and Jack would not bring it up unless Genji allowed it. It was enough for them to know that Angela and Overwatch had helped heal him following the devastation caused by his own brother. 

“You know that’s your fault for not teaching me the tricks back then.” McCree returned with a half smile.

Hanzo was the one who interrupted the banter. “What do we know about this Talon meeting?” The elder Shimada brother had always been all business, ever since Jack had first heard about him when Gabriel suggested putting an end to the Shimada Clan’s arms dealing. Time and circumstance had yet to change that aspect of the man.

With everyone back on the mission, Jack continued. “We have a date and a location. We don’t know who will be there or what will be discussed. Lucio got the blue prints of the hotel and there is a confirmed large meeting on that date, but obviously we need more info to confirm that this is legitimate. And that you can safely proceed in eavesdropping on their meeting.”

“You do realize what will be done to get it,” McCree stated, arching back in his chair. The implication of not so humanitarian means was discretely placed on the table.

“I am aware, but don’t let it get out of hand.” Morrison frowned. He did not like that avenue. He was not sure if any of the others understood what the cowboy was suggesting. “Hanzo, I want you to take point on this one.”

With only a slight grimace, Hanzo nodded. The man was used to command. Even if it was not in a pure military sense. “Very well. We have two weeks until the meeting. Lucio, may I ask that you continue to hack into whatever information sources you might be able to for what you can find. We will take two days to familiarize ourselves with the city and building plans. Then McCree and Genji will survey the location directly. Based on their findings we will determine appropriate paths of entry and exit. That should give us just over a week to finalize actual infiltration plans.” Hanzo had the agreement of all present. Most likely because none of them understood how complicated the endeavor would be. Morrison knew their input would only serve to mitigate the less than humane tactics Blackwatch had become infamous for.

That was when they finally directed their attention to the details of the target location. With a restrained sigh, Hanzo remarked, “We will never hear the end of this.” On the screen was a wordy missive that sketched out the plan for the Talon operatives. 

McCree had not reached that bit of information yet. Morrison waited. He had had the same thoughts as Hanzo regarding the location. Then finally came the moment of realization for the cowboy. “Well what do you know, Sante Fe.”

“Could they have made it any more McCree?” Fareeha rolled her eyes. Apparently the whole room had waited with baited breath for the gunslinger to reach that part of the document. With Fareeha’s comment everyone started chuckling. It was a relief to the brief but intense plan they had just made.

“Just means he knows the area. Now if the area would not recognize him.” Genji added lightly.

“Hey now,” McCree protested. “Santa Fe is a large enough city where I won’t necessarily be recognized. ‘Sides haven’t been back there in ages.”

“Quick question,” Lena spoke up for the first time since the briefing began. “Why would Talon set up a meeting in a Santa Fe hotel? For a secret terrorist organization that seems rather blatant.”

“I doubt they would book a conference under the name Talon,” Angela clarified politely.

Hanzo settled the argument with, “Quite correct. Santa Fe is likely a geographically centric and discreet location for those who head what must be various branches of their organization. Should they require an in person meeting of such a scale then they would have a business front set up the conference. As I understand it, Santa Fe is a known location for such things.”

“Well I don’t know about businesses, but they do hold quite a few massive celebrations out that way.” McCree offered. Hanzo simply rolled his eyes and dismissed the direction of the conversation.

“It is a simple matter as corporations are dull news to the public. Talon’s soldier’s will not be wearing the same armor and helmets we have been seeing.” Hanzo continued. “And their upper management most definitely will not. So we will have ample opportunity to scan for identifications. But this is speculation. We should turn our attention to equipment we will need.”

“Got you covered,” Lucio trotted over to a massive set of shelves. It was strange to see the boy without his skates, but Winston had told him not in crowded rooms. “At least in the way of listening devices. I’ve got recorders and wireless mics and earpiece communicators that you can barely see.” He pulled two large cases off the shelves. Upon opening them on the table, Jack saw that the bulk of the cases was foam insulation. “Been working on them for a while now. Glad that there is finally a use for them. Once you find the right place, should be a breeze to set them up. 

Morrison stepped back and watched as the collection of would-be heroes admired the tech. In a way it reminded him of the good old days when Overwatch as a Peacekeeping force of the United Nations just got started. The Omnic Crisis was over and the world was celebrating their heroes. Instead of making due with what they could scrounge up, the soldiers of the original strike force were given state of the art equipment. It was like Christmas for them. Jack among them. 

“These will do nicely,” Hanzo said firmly. Morrison knew that to be high praise indeed. Ana was right, perhaps it was time for the next generation to take the current crisis. But then Reyes had been right too, old soldiers are hard to kill.

“You know these remind me of those FlyCams we used to use back in the day,” McCree said twisting the tiny camera in his metal fingers. “Whatever happened to those?”

“FlyCams?” Lucio asked, giving the cowboy his undivided attention. “What are those?”

“I have not seen them on this Watchpoint.” Winston answered thoughtfully. Jack caught himself wondering the same thing as McCree. What had happened to those tiny reconnaissance drones? “Though, you know, I’m not sure if we ever kept any here in the first place. It is likely they did not survive the explosion.”

“Those were mostly Blackwatch equipment.” Jack added. “If they did survive, they are likely to be with Talon.”

“Alright, but what are they?” Lucio demanded.

“They were little camera drones that locked onto a target and made reporting off surveillance loads easier.” McCree answered still twisting the tiny camera in his metal fingers.

“Those sound awesome! Hey, Winston, do you think Athena has a blueprint or something of those in her database? Shouldn’t be too hard to make that adjustment.” Lucio was thrilled with the new path his reconnaissance kit could take.

Jack gave a small smile at the boy’s enthusiasm and turned to leave. The group was well on their way to figuring out what it needed. Morrison would not get in their way. He slipped outside while the team discussed their next steps and watched the play of sunlight on the ocean below. He settled against the building and took a moment to remember the good times he had had in this place.

“Well, Jack? How are they handling it?” The unexpected voice startled him and it was for the best that he did not have his rifle available.

“Ana.” He turned to find her standing innocently beside the ledge. She must have scaled the rocks from above to sneak in without setting off the alarms. That and she knew Athena as well. “Thought you were staying in Egypt.”

“You need me, Jack. And I see you are resuming your role quite well.” Ana smiled fondly. “And you were right. I did miss them.”

“They’re all inside.”

“Not right now. I think we’re allowed time to remember without those kids interrupting.” Ana brushed back her tattered coat and sat next to him. “Isn’t this where Reinhardt set up his tanning bed?”

“The roof just down that way. Said it was the only one that got enough sun.” Jack chuckled.

“And he is still with Brigitte? When will that girl learn?”

“She likes the adventure. At least someone is trying to keep Reinhardt out of trouble.”

Ana looked as though she were going to say something, but a familiar loud drawling voice interrupted. “Nah, go on without me. Just got to take a few moments.” McCree called jovially to someone further inside the building. The cowboy had come to smoke. Jack tensed next to Ana, knowing she would not be able to hide before the sharpshooter found them. Ana too stood ready for the sudden reveal.

Jesse McCree was in the process of lighting his cigarillo as he turned towards the cliff where the two old soldiers stood. As he turned the cheerful demeanor vanished and his face closed off, void of all visible emotion. McCree’s eyes locked onto Ana in such an accusatory way that Jack stepped between former student and mentor, hoping the cowboy would not draw his gun.

The old sniper leaned around the soldier offering softly, “Jesse…” before the gunslinger turned abruptly back into the building. Smoking cigarillo still in hand. Ana stood with one hand stretched out as if she could pull him back. Jack could see the pain in her eyes from the brief encounter. He wished he could have saved his old friend from the anguish, but returning from the dead had its consequences. Ones he knew well.


	4. Preparing

**[\/][/\\] Chapter Four: Preparing**

The minor chaos that constituted a preparation meeting surrounded Fareeha. Most of the conversation went on around her and she listened. Making careful note of what ideas seemed to stick and which ones ought to be tossed out. Genji and Lucio were discussing how to link all the reconnaissance devices to the cyborg’s wireless connection. Apparently the computerized ninja had no problem with acting as a mobile transmission tower. The plan had merit. Genji did have a direct link to Athena and all information could be streamed in real time. Most importantly it could be streamed via a secure link.

To Fareeha’s side Lena and Winston were talking about transportation into Santa Fe without being noticed by the authorities. Apparently Winston was worried that Talon had eyes within the very organizations meant to police criminals. So far all they could come up with was having Hanzo and McCree travel by civilian planes. Getting Genji in would be more complicated. Not to mention her Raptora suit and D.Va’s Mech. Fareeha wondered if she could call in a favor with Helix and transport those in with little fuss.

They were just about to break for lunch when McCree called out to Lucio and Genji, “Nah, go on without me. Just got to take a few moments.” That smoking habit of his. Guess no one in the world could get him to stop.

“I know you haven’t been here long, Fareeha,” Angela commented as they closed their notebooks. “But have you had Lena’s cooking yet?”

“Lena cooks?” She looked over at the tiny time traveling pilot and shook her head in wonderment. “I would never have guessed.”

The doctor smiled mischievously. “Just be warned that sometimes she comes up with the most interesting concoctions.” Fareeha groaned, now understanding the veiled description as the warning it was meant to be. They had just stepped away from the table when she sniffed the air puzzled. The acid scent of smoke drifted towards them. Angela found the source first. “Jesse! What have I told you about smoking indoors!”

The cowboy scowled first at the doctor then at the cigarillo. He promptly extinguished it against the palm of his left hand. “Fareeha, your mother’s outside.” His voice was bland and deep, giving away little emotion.

The Helix security officer frowned at the statement. The cowboy had never been cruel to her before. “My Mother is dead,” she stated firmly. She would not accept a joke like this. But then McCree’s face was dark and brooding under that battered hat of his, so unlike the grinning young man she remembered.

“Yeah, the dead don't seem to stay dead no more.” The gunslinger brushed past them with no further explanation, leaving the atmosphere choked with apprehension.

Angela placed a gentle hand on Fareeha’s shoulder. “Go. He does have a point. First Jack, then Gabriel… If your mother is indeed still alive you should go.” That was all the encouragement Fareeha needed. She rushed to the door from which McCree had just entered. There on the brown rocky ledge under the brilliant noon sun were two old soldiers. Jack Morrison standing next to a woman, cloaked in tattered tan. Her face weathered with sundrenched wrinkles and one piercing eye staring back at her. Fareeha felt her heart plummet in to her gut then soar into her throat. Without question this was Ana Amari. Her mother.

Fareeha did not know how long she stood there gaping at the sight of the woman the world had believed dead. The moment was frozen. She was afraid that if she said anything the moment would vanish and her mother would return to the grave. It was impossible. Whatever the story was. It was impossible.

“Fareeha, my daughter.” Ana broke the silence gently. Words in Arabic that shattered Fareeha’s world. Soundless tears blurred her vision and streamed down her cheeks as she closed her eyes, desperately trying to control the grief and relief that warred within her. The older woman came closer. Fareeha could hear the near silent footsteps on the stone. A gentle leathery hand gripped her own and Fareeha clasped onto it as if it were the only lifeline left. “It will be alright, Fareeha. I am sorry to have kept this from you.”

The Helix pilot who had braved many battles and faced death without blinking was suddenly weak against gravity. She threw her arms around the torso of her mother and buried her head into her mother’s shoulders. Together they sank to the ground, giving into gravity and emotion. Neither said another word while tears streamed down both faces. There was no one else in the world beyond them.

Eventually the tears subsided and old wounds hurt less. Fareeha pulled back just enough to study her mother’s face. Still regal and commanding. Beautiful regardless of age. Her mother. Even the eye patch could not take that away from her. Fareeha’s hand ghosted over the black leather covering her mother’s right eye. “Why?” The word was broken and tears threatened again even when she had thought them gone.

“I’m sorry, Fareeha. It was a difficult decision, but I had failed so many…” Ana Amari tried to explain.

“I needed you! Dad needed you! Why did you abandon us?” Fareeha demanded, anger bubbling up to the surface. 

“I lost so many because I hesitated. I couldn’t bare the thought of being alive when I let my family died.”

“Your family?” Fareeha asked puzzled for a moment. Then realization slapped her to reality. The team was the family. Same for her. She had heard from Jack that many soldiers had died to the unknown sniper. And her mother felt responsible. But that did not excuse her, the little girl inside her raged. “What about us? Your real family! We were left with nothing but your memory! You died! Seven years we treated you as dead. Dad and I have only just started to return to a normal life. Without you! And now you have come back. Loosing you almost ruined him. What do you expect from us now?”

“Nothing, child.” Ana looked away, out over the ocean. Her gaze far away. “I expect nothing. I can stay a ghost forever. But the world is becoming dangerous again and I need to protect my family. To protect you.” When Ana turned her gaze back to Fareeha the older woman’s tears were welling up again. “I have missed you more than you could know. And I’m sorry. Looking at you… I should not have done what I did. I made a desperate choice and I am sorry it hurt you. You have become an amazing young woman. I could not be more proud to have you as my daughter.”

“Mum…” Fareeha wiped away fresh tears and threw her arms around her mother once more. “I don’t care about that. I’m just glad to have you back.” She could have stayed that way for eternity except her stomach betrayed her.

“When have you last eaten?”

“Mum!” Fareeha laughed as they stood. “Just this morning. Come, they are having lunch without us. Perhaps there will still be some left.” Together hand in hand they made their way to the mess hall. A weight had been lifted from Fareeha’s shoulders and she felt as if she could soar through the skies forever.

[\/][/\\]

A bottle of liquor held down the newspaper of the day. Not that McCree was reading it. It could blow away in between drinks and he could care less. An empty bottle served as an ashtray for a long stream of smokes. What had he done to deserve these gut wrenching encounters? The dead should stay dead. End of story. That was why they used the word dead. Now all these ghost were reappearing in his life. As if it weren’t complicated enough.

No, McCree was tired of complicated. The United States government had a price on his head. The Deadlock Rebels had a price on his head. The world was torn between collecting that price and honoring him for the justice he gave them. It made things complicated. Liquor was not complicated. So what if it was nearly evening and he had nothing but the two bottles sitting next to him. He was already wondering where to find a third.

He had found an isolated part of the training grounds just to be alone. Jesse did not want anyone to come and find him to try and ‘understand’ his situation. Sure, if anyone understood anything it was Hanzo. Worlds a part as they were, they had similar situations. Mostly… Sort of… In a weird way… It had been nice sharing a drink with the man. But today… Today McCree just wanted to be left alone.

He reckoned he had gone about seven hours before someone found him. And it had to be the old soldier. Jesse glanced at the man then ignored him in favor of pouring another shot.

Morrison dropped another bottle of liquor on the impromptu table, poured himself a glass and sat back against another crate. Not close enough to be next to the cowboy but not far enough away for McCree to be isolated any longer. Sighing, the gunslinger accepted the bottle by pouring himself a drink. This was the man that had started his nightmare.

][

_The evening was overcast with a drizzle that threatened to increase into a thunderstorm. Athena had confirmed the prediction with her radar. But still McCree crowded under an overhang to smoke. Angela refused to allow any tobacco products in doors._

_A clap of distant thunder covered the initial boots on gravel and when Jesse reacted he knew it was too late. “Drop it, soldier.” Jesse had his Peacekeeper drawn but not ready. The rough voice came from too close behind him for a quick reaction to save the day._

_“Ya know, I ain’t never been much of a soldier,” he drawled inching his gun up to a better angle, waiting for a moment to turn and face the intruder._

_The barrel of a large gun pressed into his serape, digging into his back. “Let me put it into words you’ll understand, cowboy. Reach for the sky.”_

_Jesse froze when he heard that phrase. “You have got to be kidding me.” He quickly spun, his revolver knocking into the casing of the pulse rifle. “You’re supposed to be dead.” A tall white haired yet athletically built man stood, loosely holding the rifle. His fingers nowhere near the trigger. With the eye shield and face mask, it was difficult to identify the soldier, but Jesse knew that voice and those words._

_“Funny how that works. Never thought you’d pick up Gabe’s vocabulary.” This confirmed the man as Jack Morrison, former Strike Commander of Overwatch._

_“Kinda hard not to after awhile.” McCree took a last drag on his cigar. “Where have you been?” he demanded._

_Jack promptly ignored the question and fired back with, “Thought you quit Overwatch.”_

_“No, I quit the feud building between you and Blackwatch.” McCree returned irritably. Snuffing his cigar, McCree gazed up at the rain starting to pour down and soak his smoking alcove._

_Jack removed his facial coverings, revealing the scars from the explosion that everyone believed he had died from. Jesse was not impressed. “You could have said something before you disappeared.”_

_McCree snorted and spit in disgust. “I’ll tell you what I told Reyes. I respected both of you too much to be choosing sides. We wouldn’t have had to choose sides if you had backed us up in the first place.”_

_“I’m not here to argue you with, McCree. I’m here to give Winston some information he might find useful.” They were both getting drenched as the wind blew the rain under the awning._

_McCree frowned before finally turning towards the doors. “Ah, hell, first the damn archer now a damn ghost,” he muttered. “Who else is gonna drop in unexpectedly.”_

_“Aren’t you going to alert the others?”_

_“Naw, if Athena hasn’t done it by now, then they deserve to be spooked.” McCree keyed them in though he was sure Morrison’s old code would have let him in._

][

“I’m still not impressed.” McCree said into thin line of the setting sun.

“What about?” Morrison asked. They were halfway through the third bottle when McCree finally broke the silence.

“Your scars. You come back from the dead with barely a scratch. Captain Amari without an eye and Reyes… I don’t even know how to describe it other than as a walking corpse. You just up and vanished on them. Plain and simple.” McCree downed his shot and scowled at the soldier. “You took the cowards way out,” he accused.

“I suppose I did.” The soldier accepted morosely. “You gonna hold that against me now?” Morrison raised an eyebrow expectantly. As if they both didn’t know McCree had ran from the escalation with hardly a word to anyone.

“No. Just expected more from you.” They returned to silence broken only with the clink of glass as they finished the bottle. With darkness settling in, three bottles empty and one half full of ash, McCree leaned back to study the stars. He was glad that the stars never changed. Every sky he looked up into he was comforted by their patterns. Sure he hadn’t been south of the equator much, but stars were still stars. He hoped that when it was his time he could spare a moment to see the stars. “Now what? The three of you are back.”

“What more does there have to be?”

“Well why are you back? What are you going to do?”

Morrison shrugged. “I think we each have our own agendas. I’m going to find out who caused the explosion that destroyed Switzerland. Hopefully find out who pushed Overwatch into the grave. And stop Gabriel from killing off more Overwatch agents. For the others, you’ll have to ask them.”

“Right. Well, you three still know how to give me a heart attack.” Jesse groused as his memory returned unfavorable encounters with the leadership trio. “But what can you expect?”

“We tried to get you off the path of a criminal.”

“Yeah, that worked well… Break the law become a hero, fight crime become an outlaw. Guess I’m not cut out to be one of the good guys.”

“You’re better than you give yourself credit for.”

“I don’t think the world will agree with you.” McCree shrugged and settled in for the night. It was warm and the liquor was finally making him sleepy. “I’m staying out here. I’ll deal with real life in the morning.”

“I’ll tell Ana to let you be then.” Morrison stood to leave, brushing the dirt from his pants. “Try not to give her a hard time.”

“Her? She’s an angel compared to you.”

“See you in the morning, McCree,” the soldier left finally, allowing the cowboy to hunker down and isolate his conflicting emotions in peace.

[\/][/\\]

Jesse glanced at himself in the mirror. It was a completely different person that stared back at him. Clean shaven, short neatly trimmed blonde hair. A light green long sleeved button down. Khakis and nice shoes. No body armor. No hat. No serape. No boots. He sighed. It was what the job called for. He pulled up his left sleeve and lightly fingered the connection of his prosthetic. The large clunky metal forearm was replaced with a flesh tone appendage matching his biological right arm. He touched the bare inner arm were he once had a tattoo. Those days were long gone now.

Replacing the sleeve, he straightened his shirt and adjusted his posture. Back straight, head erect. Facial expression gentle and neutral. Jawline softer. He brushed back the short blonde hair and cleared away the growing scowl. He no longer had a beard to hide behind. He was trying to pass as a civilian. Or at least one of those boy scouts Reyes had always made fun of. Now he looked like everyone else in Santa Fe.

Walking out into the halls of the Watchpoint in the early morning hours, he made a beeline for the kitchen. He had only slept a few hours outside before he got the idea to transition to the alias he would need for the mission. A quick jaunt to the nearby town and slipping back in before anyone was aware. Except Athena. The A.I. was still responsible for all comings and goings. 

Usually his preparation for this alias was done elsewhere. Isolated from others to preserve the secrecy of his identities. The less others knew about his alias the better kept the secret was. Still he had let some elements of this personality slip out while walking the halls of Overwatch as a young man. The memories brought a melancholy smile to his face. So many of those people were gone now.

As he waited for his morning cup of coffee to brew, he heard a sleepy Hana. “I didn’t know we had anyone new coming. Morning.”

Jesse didn’t turn around immediately. He decided to see how far this would go. Hana had never seen him in his Blackwatch days. In a soft Midwestern accent he answered cheerfully, “Good morning. I just made some coffee. Would you like any?”

“Nah, I’m good.” She answered brightly, pulling out a popular energy drink from the fridge. “I’m Hana, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Hana.” Jesse turned around and smiled. He knew the expression would lift his look and crinkle his eyes pleasantly. He had practiced the look for hours in the mirror. It was a far cry from his typical smirk around a clenched jaw and a smoke. “I’m Joel.” It was the first name that came to mind and he could have kicked himself for using it. It had been the name Reyes had stuck him with when going undercover. “Joel Buchanan. Not many morning people here are there.” He continued the conversation as expected. Pouring himself a cup of black coffee he waited. Fooling strangers was easy. Fooling friends much more difficult.

“Got that right.” Hana ginned up at him. This was the test. Seeing if his acting and new look stumped her. “They usual make it up by ten. Or after the muffins are finished.” Hana carried on her morning routine of baking. “When did you come in? Usually Winston tells us when someone is coming.”

“Last night. I came in late and did not want to bother him.” Jesse was surprised his upright posture and unassuming demeanor was throwing her off. He hadn’t even done much to change the look of his face beyond the lack of a beard and a change in hair color. The rest of the adjustments would take more time.

They continued their morning. Jesse with his coffee and Hana humming to herself as she made banana nut muffins. Jesse was fighting the urge to step outside and smoke. It was the one thing that would give him away. One he did not have anything other than his telltale cigarillos and two Joel did not smoke. Reyes had made that painfully clear. He was certain that between smoking and meeting someone who knew him from his Blackwatch days would destroy the attempt at fooling his new teammates.

That was when others started to trickle in. Lucio waved at him brightly while covering a yawn and collecting ingredients and a blender for his breakfast. Like Hana he accepted that Joel had not wanted to wake everyone when he had arrived. Genji was a different story. Jesse felt the longer than socially acceptable stare from where the cyborg stood in the doorway.

From her spot pouring batter into the muffin tray, Hana said, “That’s Joel. Said he came in last night. Did you work with him back in Overwatch?”

“You could say that.” Genji chuckled as he took a seat across from Jesse. His head tilted slightly to the right and Jesse could swear the man was grinning. “Joel… isn’t that the name Commander Reyes called you when you were mocking Commander Morrison?”

Jesse gave a small snort of amusement. “It took you long enough to put it together.”

“If you had not used that name I might not have realized it so quickly.” Genji returned pointedly.

“Wait a minute,” Lucio came over bearing some sort of fruit and vegetable smoothie. “Realized what?” Apparently the younger two had not heard the entire conversation. 

“What do you mean Joel was the name Reyes called you?” Hana must have been closer to hear over the whirl of the blender.

Genji chuckled. “Do you want to tell them or shall I?”

“Aw and I was doing so well.” Jesse turned to the younger recruits and gave them his typical lopsided grin instead of the tightlipped pleasant-to-strangers smile. His voice dropped back into his drawl. “Well hello there.”

“No way! Jesse?” Lucio laughed. “I never even thought.”

“You mocked Jack? Now that I have to see.” Hana twisted a chair around to hug the back as she sat. “Why did Reyes call you Joel?”

Chuckling softly and returning to Joel’s speech pattern and light accent, he did have to get back into the habit, Jesse answered. “Commander Reyes thought the name Joel was as bland Americana as you could get. Right alongside the name Jack. One morning Commander Morrison was getting on to me about not following protocol for something. I forget what. So instead of arguing back as to why the protocol was stupid, I started to play perfect soldier. All ‘yes, sir,’ ‘sorry, sir,’ ‘won’t happen again, sir.’ I don’t think he was pleased. You could hear his teeth grinding. Commander Reyes came up from behind, clapped me on the shoulder and said, ‘Alright, Joel. I think he gets the idea.’ And Joel became the name he stuck me with whenever we went out on these types of missions.”

“I can’t believe you are able to change so much with just a shave and a haircut.” Lucio shook his head, still laughing from the story.

“I have a look for a reason. When people start looking for the look they will miss the details. How else do you think I could slip away from the authorities for six years?” Jesse gave a light-hearted easy smile. That was when Jack Morrison entered, followed closely by Angela and Winston. All of them did a double take when they saw Jesse cleaned up. Jack groaned. Jesse gave a polite smile with pure mischief behind his eyes. “Good morning, Commander.”

“This is what you chose?” Jack accused.

“Sorry, sir, but I don’t think you have a choice in the matter.” Jesse bit his cheek as he watched Jack grimace.

“There is just something wrong watching you play that part.” The soldier shook his head, still unable to look away from the new made blonde at the table.

“That would be because this part is nothing like my real self. That is exactly why it works so well.”

“Just don’t call me commander.”

“I can’t guarantee that, sir.”

Around them the others started to smother laughter at the exchange. The younger ones seeing how this persona could easily be used to mock the former Strike Commander. The former Overwatch agents in memory of how this persona caused Jack Morrison so much grief. Jack himself ran a hand across his scarred face, trying to dispel the irritation.

“Fine. Since this is what you chose, then fine.” Morrison turned towards the kitchen area and poured himself a cup of coffee to distract from the encounter.

Angela came and sat next to Genji at the table and stared intently at McCree’s prosthetic arm. “Where did this come from?”

Obligingly Jesse undid the sleeve and held it out to the good doctor. He flexed the hand, showing that it was well connected. “I was in need of a similar disguise several years ago and found a doctor willing to fit me with this standard prosthetic. I am not as fond of it as I am of my personalized one, but it does the job and is much less noticeable.”

“I see. And are the sensations still appropriate?”

“If anything, Doctor Ziegler, the sensations are more sensitive with this one. The material is not quite as strong either. I have had to get it repaired after overestimating its capabilities. I am willing to let you run your diagnostics to reassure yourself, if you’d like.” It wasn’t something McCree usually offered. The doctor typically had to hunt down the cowboy for any medical exam. Angela showed surprise by the suggestion. But it was what Joel would do. Joel was more approachable, more trusting. McCree was hesitant to put himself into situations where he was not in full control. Joel did not have the same reservations. Perhaps that was why McCree decided on transitioning to Joel before meeting with Ana Amari again. Joel did not hold onto the same sense of betrayal as McCree.

“Perhaps before you depart.” Angela seemed uncertain as to what name to call him as her sentence drifted to a close. McCree nodded and focused on his coffee while the others made breakfast. It would be an interesting couple of days before they left for Santa Fe.

[\/][/\\]

Early morning hours were the optimum time for training. Limited distractions and more favorable weather. Though Hanzo understood the need to train in varied conditions, the simple act of drawing the bowstring and releasing the arrow granted him peace. If only for a short period of time. 

The steady _thunk_ of the arrows against the cork target was interrupted by the steady thudding footsteps of a soldier. But it wasn’t Morrison’s gait. And too heavy to be either Amari. Hanzo paused and turned in the direction of the oncoming stranger. Tall, blonde, broad shouldered. Straight backed with a measured pace. Square jaw and soft eyes. His arms did not swing with his steps, nor were they tucked into pockets. Somewhere between attention and parade rest. Definitely a soldier. The pale green button down tucked into light tan khakis did nothing to disguise the bearing of a veteran. 

Hanzo waited and watched as the stranger continued to approach. The brown eyes held a hint of amusement that the archer found unusual. “Good morning,” the stranger waved when at an acceptable speaking distance. A gentle smile, one not often seen on this face. There was a sense of familiarity in the gesture that put Hanzo on guard.

“Do I know you?” Hanzo asked carefully, critically studying the stranger. They were still within the confines of the Watchpoint so it was unlikely that he was facing a potential enemy. But this was still a stranger that behaved as if he knew Hanzo. The archer readjusted the grip on his bow. It would only take a second to draw an arrow should he need to.

“Ah shucks, Hanzo,” the stranger gave a huge lopsided grin. One Hanzo was sure he had seen before. The stranger’s voice dropped into a familiar drawl that did not fit the soldier in front of him. “I was wondering if I would be able to fool you.”

“McCree?” Hanzo had trouble seeing the cowboy under this guise of a soldier. Then suddenly the soldier disappeared as the blonde stranger chuckled and shrugged in the same manner as the carefree cowboy.

“One in the same,” McCree said, tipping a non existent hat. The perfect posture vanished into the relaxed hunch of a man who had been through too much to bother with appearances. In the next moment the cowboy was gone replaced by the strange soldier. Voice once again light and poised. The words of a man who cared greatly about the image he portrayed. “Sorry for interrupting your morning practice, but I did want to see if you would recognize me. I met most of the others at breakfast. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hanzo,” McCree stepped forward offering his right hand for a firm handshake. “I’m Joel. Joel Buchanan.” 

Accepting the handshake, Hanzo noted the differences between McCree and Joel. The soldier’s grip was firm, brief and businesslike. The cowboy’s grip was firm but careless. Hanzo also just noticed that the left hand was not the same metal prosthetic the gunslinger used, but a natural appearing one. Shimada found himself wondering if McCree had always been a consummate actor and if the cowboy routine was simply a cover for a real personality that the man refused to reveal. “Joel… Interesting choice in names.”

The soldier gave a small shrug. Highly confined compared to the one McCree had just showed off. “I have used this alias many times in the past. I did not intend to use it again, but old habits are hard to kill. The name slipped out before I could think of a new one. But since we’re going to Santa Fe, I did not want there to be a chance old friends would recognize me. That is if they managed to escape from jail.”

“Hmm… I suppose choosing an alias for this mission is appropriate. I take it you plan on traveling to Santa Fe soon?”

“I was thinking about leaving today or tomorrow. It all depended on when I could get a ticket.” The soldier McCree now played stood at parade rest, hands resting lightly at the small of his back. A small hint of a smile continued to play at the corner of the man’s lips. The whole picture made the stranger approachable and friendly. It was odd to say the least.

“That does not leave much time in the way of planning.” Hanzo frowned.

“The type of planning you need requires eyes on the ground. Even this early in the game Talon will have its soldiers stationed in the hotel and surrounding areas. They have likely set up surveillance weeks ago. As an unassuming civilian I can slip in and monitor their movements. Perhaps also find a way into their meetings.”

“That’s surprisingly well thought out.”

“Did you think I was not capable of forethought and planning?” The soldier grinned and a ghost of McCree was released.

“I also think you are running away.” Hanzo pinned him with an accusatory stare. The archer had met the old sniper last night and immediately understood why McCree had remained absent. Ana Amari had been a mentor to the gunslinger from what he could tell by the stories passed around the dinner table as easily as plates of food.

McCree could not hide the grimace at the accusation. “It’s not so much running away…” The cowboy faltered and an authoritative female voice finished.

“It’s more of a strategic withdrawal,” Ana Amari had entered the training grounds and filled it with her presence. “I already gave you one of those, McCree. It’s time you hold your ground and finish this.” The soldier façade crumpled leaving a sheepish cowboy to turn and face the formidable commanding officer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just realized that it was McHanzo week... Well there are elements in this chapter that accidentally fall in line with the first prompt of Morning/Night. Might have to diverge into that untamed wilderness next.
> 
> Still, hope you liked meeting Joel.
> 
> Thank you for reading and Please Enjoy!


	5. Groundwork

**[\/][/\\] Chapter Five: Groundwork**

“Captain Amari,” Jesse wished for his hat and beard to hide the embarrassment surging through him.

Her voice turned gentle and motherly. “I’m not a captain any longer, Jesse. You can call me Ana.”

“You’ll always be a captain to me, ma’am.” Jesse said softly, rubbing the back of his neck. Now that the shock of her return had worn off, McCree was uncertain how to continue. Unlike with Morrison or Reyes, Jesse could not find it in himself to be angry with the woman that had taken so much of her time to teach him.

“Good morning, Hanzo,” Ana turned her attention to the archer behind him. “I’m sorry to impose upon your practice.” 

“I am finished for the time being. Do not concern yourself.” Hanzo was being unusually amicable. The older Shimada brother packed away his bow and nodded to the sniper before slipping away. McCree watched as the potential escape eluded him.

Alone with Ana Amari, Jesse did not know where to look. Normally a hat would occupy his hands right now. At the moment they felt useless. No smoke to distract him from the moment either. He had striped himself bare of all his usual crutches and not even his alias offered much protection against the assessing eyes of the former second in command.

Ana sighed as she studied the gunslinger. “I wanted to apologize for leaving you.”

McCree looked up and finally met Amari’s eye. Only one had survived. “You don’t need to apologize. You made your choices, like we all did.” Jesse tucked his hands in his pockets and stared at his feet. “I get it. The stress became too much. I watched it tear all of you apart,” he finally confessed. “I can’t blame you for pretending to be dead. I missed you… after you disappeared. Reyes and Morrison didn’t handle it too well either. After you died… after we thought you died, everything went downhill. I saw it happening. Blackwatch was already shutdown and angry. I ran. I didn’t even attend your memorial. I just ran.” Goddamn, he felt seventeen again and insecure with his emotions. What was it about Captain Amari that made him blurt out everything?

“Jesse…” There it was again. The soft voice offering to protect him. He wasn’t worth protecting. A gentle hand lifted his chin and soon he was meeting Ana’s understanding gaze. “You have been through too much… You’re right… apologizing won’t help… won’t give back all those years you were forced to spend on your own. I came back to protect everyone. Let me try and protect you as well.”

McCree glanced away at first, uncertain about what it would mean to loose her once again. That was what scared him. Now that the three people who had shaped his life were back from the dead, it meant he would have to watch them die all over again. He did not think he would survive it. But the truth staring him in the face was that they were here. They were fighting. They were alive. He turned his gaze back to Ana and gave her a soft genuine smile. “It’s an honor fighting by your side, ma’am.”

“Heh,” Ana quirked a bright brief smile. The amusement lingered in her eye. “You always were a charmer.” The moment was brief and Amari returned to the brusque commanding officer routine that made McCree roll his eyes. “Alright, it seems to me that this Joel has some work cut out for him. Might as well get to it.” Again Jesse felt like he had shot himself in the foot with choosing that name.

[\/][/\\]

The clear blindingly bright sun broiled the Santa Fe pavement. It felt like home. Pushing the dark aviator sunglasses securely against his nose, McCree missed his broad brimmed hat even more. The glasses were such a hassle. He had a backpack and a large rolling piece of luggage grinding against the concrete. Again, such a hassle to fit in with his surroundings.

He slowed as he approached the target building. Eldorado Hotel and Spa. “Classy. They’re sparing no expense on this one are they?” McCree muttered as he studied the exterior. Getting inside would be more problematic. The bigwigs in the Talon organization would be staying there. Their goons would be at the cheaper motels in the surrounding area when not on duty. 

“Any sign of Talon activity?” Hanzo’s voice was on the other side of the communicator. McCree knew others would be listening in. 

“Not at the moment. I’m only at the exterior. I’ll need the evening to sort out their goons from the average citizen.” McCree continued on his way, for all the world looking like a tourist admiring the good old adobe architecture. 

“So when does the action start?” Hana was listening in. She was a gamer and a soldier, used to active combat. 

Hanzo took the moment to educate her so McCree would not be overheard. “We do not want action right now. We want him to be ignored, to blend in. The goal is to watch them without being seen.”

“That is sooo boring. The movies make all this undercover work seem so much more exciting.” Hana lamented. McCree could not tell if the gamer stayed on the comm or not. He had not expected her to be so interested in this part of the mission either. She had given it her rapt attention and even offered suggestions on getting her mech into the city without being seen. None of which were feasible, but she was trying. 

McCree turned off the main boulevard onto a street with cheap hotels. The city as a whole had kept the adobe charm and not a skyscraper in sight. It felt like an old-time small town and left the magnificent blue sky visible to all. To listen to the old folks, the town had not changed much over the centuries. Add some modern technology and convenience and it was still the arts and crafts capitol of the world. Outdoor markets littered the streets. McCree smiled to himself as he eyed the turquoise and silver jewelry lined up next to recreations of old Indian artwork, right beside modernist interpretations of landscapes. 

Ancient memories of running through these streets nagged at the back of McCree’s mind. He quickly dismissed them and entered his hotel. Even on the cheap it was beautiful in the southwest kind of way. They had chosen this hotel because of the line of sight to the Eldorado. It wasn’t fantastic considering all buildings were no taller than four stories, but it was something. Not just any view, but a glimpse at the entrance. 

The first thing McCree did was set up the telescopic camera aimed for that small area of importance. “Lucio? Are you capturing?”

“Affirmative. As clear a picture as I expected.” The musician’s enthusiasm never ceased to amaze McCree. He continued to unpack the various tools he would need for the next few days. His trusty Peacekeeper and his customized prosthetic remained secured in the small shipping container to keep them safe from prying eyes. Jesse had picked it up from the post office before meandering through the city. Instead he had a small nondescript revolver. It would do the job, just not as well as he wanted. Again he was trying to go as low key as possible. He’d switch gear closer to a possible encounter. 

“What’s the story with Genji?” McCree asked as he settled the case of recording devices into the dresser drawer.

“Pharah is smuggling him in along with her suit.” Hanzo answered. “Her transport was not large enough for both the Raptora and the Mech. We are still searching for a plausible alternative to sending D.Va in. Expect Genji tonight or tomorrow morning.”

“Copy that.” McCree stretched and flopped onto the hard bed. He would love to have about three hours sleep, but he needed to get out there and study the perimeter and people. Might as well find a place with green chile while he was at it.

Finding a place with an outdoor patio that overlooked the entrance to the Eldorado Hotel was a bit more difficult. The walk gave him a chance to eye other pedestrians for radios or concealed weapons. There were many more than average for the current conceal/carry laws. And New Mexico was not known as a high gun carrying population. Outside of a certain gang in the area. Also these men and women did not fit the profile for Deadlock. Well dressed and well groomed. They smacked of secret service. Rather secret organization. The camera Lucio had placed in the aviator glasses took pictures at regular intervals once activated. McCree knew most of these possible agents were being photographed. 

“Looks like you were right about them sending soldiers ahead to secure the place,” the frown was audible in Hanzo’s voice.

“We’re going to need someone inside the hotel sooner than anticipated.” McCree glanced at the Eldorado. He didn’t have an alias that would suit that place. And they needed him out here for the time being anyway. Just beyond microphone range, McCree heard a rustle of papers and quick conversations. He knew they weren’t purposely leaving him out of the discussion, but it would be nice to know what was going on. 

It was Morrison’s voice that answered the unasked question. “Genji suggested Hanzo get to the field earlier than planned. He’ll be there in two days.”

“And you’re taking over as handler?” McCree asked carefully. The pause suggested that the soldier was seriously thinking over the position. It was not one he had ever really had. Nor was it one they had fully discussed before Jesse left.

“No. Ana will take that role. Officially. Winston when she is not available. Lucio has agreed to watch the communications as well.”

Jesse nodded even though none of them could see. “Understood.” He finished the dinner and decided to take a stroll through the evening markets. The web of goons kept spreading. He would see them traveling in pairs, dressed much like him or in casual suits. Usually just a bit too professional for a casual city. An earpiece only recognizable if one knew to look. A small bulge in a jacket pocket just the wrong shape to be a hand suggested a small firearm. At least one had a larger piece in a back harness. These Talon bosses were taking no short cuts on security.

They had a week and a half before the scheduled date. They still needed to confirm the date and that this was indeed Talon. If it was anyone else it would be of note, but they were currently interested in the one terrorist organization. Unless McCree could slip in as an unregistered staff member, Hanzo would have to set up the inside surveillance. Jesse really did not want to pull the staff member card too early. He would need it to get into the actual meeting. Besides in a hotel like that Omnics likely served as staff.

[\/][/\\]

Hanzo stepped out of the car into the baking heat of the desert. The ten steps into the air-conditioned hotel threatened to roast him alive in the blue suit he had pulled from storage. Had he really not dealt with the desert climate often enough to be accustomed to it? The unexpected reaction to the heat irritated Hanzo. And it showed in the scowl plastered on his face. Neither the driver nor the bellboy reacted. Both were Omnic.

After denouncing his leadership over the Shimada Clan, Hanzo had never thought he would be playing this part again. It wasn’t quite the same, but he was still entering into the den of thieves and murderers as if he had never left. From what they could tell no one from the Shimada Clan would be interested in this meeting or even be aware of it. So if Hanzo just so happened to appear to be a Shimada representative, then so be it.

Finally allowing himself to glance at the surroundings, Hanzo noted many uniformly suited men and women milling around the entry. There were however two men that stood out to Hanzo as men of note. The cut of their suits and material were much more sophisticated than the others. And the lesser-made suits made sure to surround them at all times. Bodyguards with their boss. 

His eyes alighted on a mirror reflecting his own image. He still had not grown accustomed to it. A neat shaved undercut and the length of black hair tightly bound in a topknot. The piercings were a personal choice. One he had never been able to justify before. They looked strange, but their presence caused a small smile to form under his beard. He had trimmed that down as well. 

“How may I help you, sir?” The woman behind the concierge desk prompted him politely. 

“I have a room for several nights. Under the name Yamamoto.” Hanzo slid the passport across the table for identification. Between Lucio, Athena and his own storage unit, Hanzo had a credible alias. 

“Thank you, Mr. Yamamoto. Everything is in order. I see you have already registered with our amenities. Is there anything else I may do for you?” The woman slid the passport and keycard across the marble surface. Elegant numbers on the envelope indicated Room 310. 

“That will be all, thank you.” Hanzo handed the bellboy the card and followed him to the room. The hotel was excellent and luxurious. There was definitely a draw for the wealthy criminal syndicates. Hanzo remembered staying in similar places while studying under his father. As complicated as those times were, Hanzo found himself missing any time spent with his father. Once at the room and his belongings settled next to the bed, he turned to the Omnic, “I wish to be left alone this evening. Thank you for your assistance.” It never hurt to be polite to any and all staff members. 

Hanzo pocketed the keycard and started to sort through his luggage. Most of it was the surveillance equipment and the other large case was the broken down Stormbow and his arrows. Loathed as he was to leave it in the case for now, it would have to wait until a planned encounter. Right now a simple handgun would have to suffice if his martial arts skills failed.

From the suitcases the archer removed a small silver earpiece and turned it on. Tucking it in place, Hanzo immediately heard the chatter about his arrival.

Genji was in full story mode. “… my idea of course. I wish I could have seen his face when I made the suggestion. Please tell me someone was there when he got it cut.”

“Nope, sorry dude.” Lucio answered. “The man left and never returned to the Watchpoint after your suggestion. You sure you didn’t scare him off?”

“Hanzo? Nonsense. He’ll be there.”

The elder Shimada brother chose that moment to enter the conversation. “Thank you for the vote of confidence, Genji. I am in the hotel and I am already seeing the congregation of high level people. Confirming them as Talon will be more difficult.”

“Hanzo! Welcome to Santa Fe!” McCree called jovially over the commination line. He must be isolated for him to break character so loudly. “I have got some of the best green chile stew over here. You have got to try it.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Hanzo willed himself not to remove the communication device. “Not now. Aren’t you supposed to be canvasing the area for where the soldiers are staying?”

“Did that. Already sent Winston the map. Genji and I are breaking for lunch and a quick nap before staking out other venues for information.”

“He means bars,” Genji felt the need to clarify, Jesse protesting in the background.

“Where else do you think low level enforcers will go to take a load off after work? Not all of them will be on duty all the time.”

“Try not to get drunk, McCree.” Hanzo warned.

“I know better than to get drunk on the job.” 

“Sometimes I wonder. Genji, I have marked my balcony. If I have need of your assistance, I will inform you.”

“Understood, brother.” The mark was a sun-catcher of two Japanese dragons. Not the Shimada dragons as those might be recognized in this crowd, but one Genji had placed on Hanzo’s bedroom window so many years ago. The little boy had painted it himself and was so very proud of it. It was one of the items he had pulled from storage. Even without knowing what marked his window, Genji would recognize it.

[/\\]

Two days of watching. Two days of placing recorders and cameras in every possible meeting space. Two days of politely ignoring the influx of bodyguards and their people. Two days of markets and museums because he knew those bodyguards were watching him. Two days of nothing.

At least their devices had not been found. That gave Hanzo some hope. He approached the Maitre d’ to be shown to his table for the evening. After the group dinners in Gibraltar, Hanzo found dining alone dull. He might not have participated, but simply being surrounded by others that accepted his presence was comforting. The Omnic greeted him by name, a function of some facial recognition software. “Mr. Yamamoto, welcome back. I would like to inform you that there is an invitation to join Mr. Elliott and his companions by the fireplace.”

Hanzo glanced behind the Omnic waiter towards the indicated table. Three men sat at the table. The one with the superior view of the room was black in skin tone and slender in build. He either was not a fighter or specialized robotics which required a smaller person. Hanzo would put his money on this man not being a fighter. The other two were larger in build and clearly of European origins. Without hearing them speak Hanzo would not be able to place them specifically. The one to the right was rotund and balding. The one to the left tall, angular and ill fitting in the expensive suit, despite it being made for him.

“I would be honored to accept the invitation.” Hanzo nodded towards the man in the center as they made eye contact. 

“If you would follow me, sir.” The Omnic Maitre d’ led the way towards the table with the three men. “Mr. Yamamoto, please allow me to introduce Misters Paul Elliott, Gerald Green, and August Hauser.” The omnic politely gestured to the center, the right and then left in turn. “Allow me to present Mister Riku Yamamoto.” Hanzo didn’t think for a moment any of these names were real. And they probably thought the same of his.

“A pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Yamamoto,” Elliott grinned. “Please have a seat.” Hanzo nodded graciously and joined them at the table. Wine was poured and Elliott’s grin remained unwavering. Enough to make Hanzo nervous. “We couldn’t help but notice you seem to be here on work.”

“An easy assumption given for anyone who stays in a hotel.”

“Yes, of course. We were pondering on the nature of your work,” Elliott continued. Hauser and Green were preoccupied with the wine or the menus. 

“That seems rather intrusive speculation.”

Shrugging Elliott sipped his wine, still studying Hanzo over the rim. “The only issue would be if we were rivals rather than separate interests.” Hanzo allowed a small frown to crease his forehead at the idle accusation. So they did think he represented the Shimada Clan. They did not seem worried.

“Is that so?” This time Hanzo studied his dinner companions over the rim of his wine glass. “You are very direct in this matter.” He offered hoping to pull further information from the talkative Mr. Elliott. 

“We have the luxury of not having uninvited ears to the party,” Elliott tilted his head to the majority of the room. Hanzo knew then that everyone else in the dinning room belonged to Elliott’s organization. He still needed to confirm it was Talon. Elliott was continuing with expounding their privilege as the food arrived. Hanzo noted that though he had not ordered anything his dish was the same local specialty he had had the past two nights. They had been watching him very closely. “But if you are concerned about eavesdropping, I’d be happy to invite you the roof for after dinner drinks.”

“I will have to take you up on that offer.” Hanzo accepted, seeing an opportunity. “Though I do not see why we would be competing. Surely our interests do not align so closely.”

“You will have to excuse my phrasing then. I was under the impression that your organization was still undergoing reconstruction. Coming this far from your base of support seemed… excessive.”

So Elliott would insist on keeping the conversation about the Shimada Clan. He apparently wanted to learn of any weakness they could exploit. Hanzo sighed and turned his attention to the meal as if the conversation meant little to him. “Even an empire undergoing reconstruction seeks out tools and resources.”

“Then only time will tell if we are competitors or cooperatives.” Elliott smiled again, his eyes remained distant and calculating. A false step tonight could destroy their work and put his own life in jeopardy. At least he had found one of the leaders. With just over a week until the date, Hanzo would have to play along if he wanted to learn more.

[\/]

“Evening, Joel!” The bartender called to Jesse by name, causing him to mentally squash the oncoming grimace. He waved back with an easy smile and took a seat. “Work still has you around these parts, huh?”

“Yeah, what can I say.” Jesse gave a small shrug of acceptance. “Just when you think you’re nearing completion, something comes up to derail it.”

“So, IPA or Lager tonight?” the bartender asked. 

“Which one’s local?”

“The IPA.”

“I’ll give that a try.” Jesse hated beer. He hated it more than anything now. He had come to this bar for the past three nights because this is where most of the off duty bodyguards congregated. It was on the cheaper end of town. Something low paid soldiers could afford. Though low paid was relative. Anyone willing to risk their life for a paycheck had to get paid a nice sum. The bartender placed a tall glass of yellow gold beer in front of him. “Thanks, Adam.”

Jesse had met three bartenders here. Adam was the tall lean twenty something college kid. He worked most nights it seemed. Only thing that seemed remarkable about the young man was his ability remember people’s names and drinks. A good memory was nothing to sneeze at.

As he settled in with his beer, he covertly watched the crowd. People came to bars to talk about work. And some people’s work very much interested Jesse. He made himself out to the bartenders as someone prone to drift. Adam was the only who seemed to tolerate him. Finish a few drinks, disappear to use the restroom and return to one of the communal tables. Join complete strangers for a drink and a conversation and end up having dinner with them. As annoying as that might be for the servers, it served Jesse well. Sometimes he was overhearing complaints that let him know some of the plans for bodyguard staffing. Sometimes he joined the very men and woman he was spying on. Those conversations brought to light some of the personalities they would be dealing with as people complained about their bosses. 

No one said the name Talon. But Jesse knew enough about Blackwatch operation to match the hierarchy to his old bosses. These people might not have been part of Blackwatch but what they had described was dead on. To him it seemed that Talon had absorbed the entire structure of the covert agency. Either that or people from Blackwatch had a founding hand in forming Talon. Jesse did not like either option. 

He waved at a few of those passing drinking buddies. Jesse had not gotten a good feel of the room yet so he decided not to join them. It might change. That all depended on who came in and who started talking. 

Jesse sipped at the beer and picked at the peanuts, listening to the conversations around him. Nothing interesting yet. It would take more drinking before those lips loosened. This was typical. 

After a couple of hours, Jesse found himself at a communal table sharing a beer and nachos with a couple of foot soldiers willing to complain about their day to a complete stranger. Most of it was old news. The boss decided to put himself at risk. Putting the guards at risk. No names today. Jesse only had half an ear to these complaints. Nor did Jesse bother with memorizing the names of tonight’s drinking buddies. If the situation demanded it, he could always claim to be too drunk to remember such things. 

A disturbance at the entrance halted conversation. Deafening roars drowned out the music. Bikes. Jesse knew those revving engines. Motorcycles specialized to make them louder. He was capable of containing a groan but his drinking companions did not. “Looks like the gang has arrived.” The woman to his left rolled her eyes. “Think someone has already informed them?”

“With the volume of those bikes,” the man to his left frowned as he spoke, “you can believe it.” He called for another round of drinks. “Our night is going to end soon. You can bet they will take over.”

“Who are you talking about?” Jesse asked curiously, his eyes still on the entrance. 

“Yeah, you’re not from around here, are you Joel,” the man across from him laughed. “Deadlock Rebels. Bikers that only know how to cause trouble.”

As he spoke five burly guys burst through doors. All muscles and black leather and loud voices. Jesse could see the skull, wings and padlock on their arms. Other tattoos filled those arms but left the Deadlock tattoo alone. This group seemed partial to girls and flowers surrounding their arms. A couple had blades and roses peeking out from the leather vests. “You expected them?” Jesse probed carefully. 

“Our boss is going to meet with them. Mistake if you ask me.” The man to his left answered.

“Huh,” Jesse eyed the bikers with innocent curiosity over the rim of his beer. “They going to make your job more difficult?”

“Likely. Those guys are unpredictable.” The woman answered. “We should probably leave before they cause enough chaos that warrants the police. We don’t want to get mixed up in that.”

“Come on, just one more drink,” the man across from him motioned to the drinks that just arrived. “It will take some time for them to get that drunk. Why let them ruin our night off?”

Murmurs of agreement and they settled in with their drinks. Jesse joined them but kept his ears on the Rebels. They were young. Probably twenty something. About the age of the now distressed looking Adam. They were laughing about some idiotic thing a younger kid in the gang did on the ride over. Said kid was probably outside watching the bikes. 

“Hey, Joel?” The man to his left called. “We’re heading out. Probably going to find another bar. Coming?”

“Nah,” Jesse favored him with a smile and wave. “I’m going to end my night here shortly. Good to see you. Hope your work doesn’t get too bad.”

“Thanks!” The trio waved and left the building. 

Now that his table was empty the crowd of Deadlock bikers converged onto the space. They left one space empty. So they were waiting on someone. Jesse could guess at who. Still he stuck around and waited to find out exactly which man would join them. This was a huge development in their observation of Talon. 

The next three guys were also Deadlock. The largest guy in the middle removed his black leather jacket and Jesse almost spit out his beer. An enforcer. A Jonah of all things. Things were getting big. Jesse finished his beer and stepped towards the restroom. “Hey, who’s one the line,” he asked in an urgent whisper to avoid notice. He also casually pulled out a small tablet to appear to be using the one quiet alcove to answer a call.

“Lucio, comin’ at you,” the bright voice of the musician answered him. “Heard your conversation out there. What’s going on?”

“We got a bit of a problem here. It’s not just Deadlock; it’s high-level enforcers. And I mean the ones that don’t show up unless big bosses are on the move. Get everyone you can on the line. We’re going to need a new plan.” Jesse glanced back at the massive bicep bearing the image of a whale surging out of a boiling sea. He had learned early in the gang to be wary of those men. Now it looked like they were going to have to face them head on.


	6. Consensus

**[\/][/\\] Chapter Six: Consensus**

“Hey, Genji, mind checking out the warehouse district?” McCree casually glanced back at the group of Deadlock Rebels. Their carousing over shown the general ambience of the bar. Most patrons cast annoyed looks at the tattooed group but none would dare tell them to quiet down. Their conversations centered on bikes and girls. Unsurprising. Most Rebels didn’t have a mind large enough to care about more than violence and sex. And those allowed bikes kept them pristine, prized above guns or girls. 

Genji’s mechanical voice buzzed over the intercom. “What am I looking for?”

“Bikes. And a lot of crates,” Though Genji did not respond, McCree knew the man was already making his way to the district.

“McCree?” Winston’s deep voice came on the line. “What are you thinking?” The question was not accusatory as he might have expected. It was simply curious. Obviously it stemmed from Winston not having much experience with the twists of a Black Ops mission.

“Deadlock means trouble. Deadlock and Talon? Well Talon has to get their munitions from somewhere and Deadlock has the paths. This whole situation feels more like a deal than simply a meeting. Hanzo?” Silence from the radio. 

Lucio came with an answer. “He’s in the middle of some interesting conversations. I’ve got his comm to ping every twenty minutes to remind him we need to talk.”

“Got it.”

Ana’s calm voice provided questions that needed clarification. “What are these Jonahs you speak of? And how are they important to the situation?”

“They’re high level enforcers. Dangerous men. They protect the bosses. And bosses don’t go anywhere without a very good reason. It would be a very strange coincidence if Talon is here at the same time as the boss.” McCree paused as a drunk stumbled past. He would leave the bar, except he needed to follow these Rebels to learn more. Give him Omnics anyday. His memories of Deadlock still made him cringe. Forcefully he flexed his right hand and moved it away from where it had been tracing the outline of a nonexistent tattoo on his left forearm. 

“This changes things,” Morrison’s ever present frown consumed the communication line. The last thing McCree needed was that man’s doom and gloom rhetoric. “We barely succeeded last time.” Didn’t McCree know it. But then most of those back in Gibraltar were not as familiar with the operation. “McCree don’t do anything rash. You’re to observe only.”

“That kind of depends on the situation.” McCree shrugged. 

“The situation is going get even more troublesome,” Hanzo came on the line in hushed tones. “I am certain these are high level decision makers in Talon. No one speaks of the name of the organization, but their references to past operations known to be the work of Talon suggest nothing else.”

“Wonderful. Concurs with what I’m seeing in the lower levels.” McCree frowned. “Finances?” he prompted Hanzo suddenly with the question he needed to know to fill in some of the blanks.

“Considerable.” Hanzo confirmed. “And they are carrying cash.” A pause. McCree could almost see the man checking his location for listeners yet again. “There are whispers here of a power play. They are very vague and seem to be saving actual business talks for the meeting. But they are speaking of inclusion.”

The smallest scowl formed on McCree’s face. He would be cursing up a storm if he was not in public. “A Talon backed Deadlock. Tempting. Not sure if Deadlock will agree. They like independence.”

“You think Talon means to acquire Deadlock?” Hanzo speculated.

“Didn’t Shimada want Deadlock?” This time Hanzo did not reply. They both knew the answer to that was a resounding yes. If Shimada’s organization had gained a foothold in the Americas then next to nothing would have stopped them from controlling all underground activity.

“What bothers me is the word inclusion.” Hanzo said instead.

McCree raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You think Deadlock is interested.”

“As you said, Talon needs munitions and Deadlock has the supplies. Guaranteed profit.” Hanzo paused again. “I would not be surprised if Talon is considering talks with the reformed Shimada Clan as well. They might even be in talks with Los Muertos. But I believe this is more of an acquire and absorb to where Deadlock is no more.”

“Dangerous. To find out, we need a Kingbird.”

“Would one be present?”

“Considering the size of this ordeal, one had better be.”

“You guys lost us on that last one. What’s a Kingbird?” Lucio interrupt what had seemed to be a private conversation between McCree and Hanzo. 

“A high level go-between.” McCree explained, his eyes wandering back to the black leather and skulls. This group would not be protecting a Kingbird. They were more likely part of those in charge of escorting the weapons shipment. The Kingbird had to be able to pass in normal to upscale society. At least superficially. “Who’s on the comm right now?” McCree demanded. He ticked them off as they announced themselves. Lucio. Soldier 76. Ana. Mercy. D.Va. Winston. Genji. Hanzo. Pharah. They were missing Tracer. Per Winston she was on a flight to them as they spoke. That made everyone on the Recall.

“You wanted transparency. Right?” McCree couldn’t believe he was doing this. Everything in his training told him to stop talking and find the target. In Blackwatch you didn’t have time to talk things over. You did what had to be done regardless of what the pansies on the other side thought. “Then I know how to find one and how to get him to talk. But if any one of you don’t want me to commit any number of human rights violations, you tell me right now.”

“What are you planning to do?” Hana. For a soldier she was still remarkably innocent.

Morrison gave the cleaned up explanation. “He’s going to kidnap a man and extract information.”

“Like the movies? Like Good cop/Bad cop?” Hana again.

“More like only bad cops,” McCree said solemnly. Through his earpiece he heard a rapid discussion on the matter from all those left at Gibraltar. He ignored them for now and walked back passed the table overloaded with beer and oversized arms. As predicted the Rebels still only had words for girls and now guns. A casual glance that did not linger long enough to be deemed a challenge located three poorly concealed pistols and one undisguised shotgun. McCree moved on. A couple of metal clubs were stuck in the belts of two more.

He waved down Adam with a polite smile. “Hey, may I have another one of those IPAs?”

“Sure thing, Joel. Everything alright? You looked a little tense back there.” The skinny bartender poured the draft quickly. Jesse placed payment and a tip on the bar. 

“Yeah. Just some family trouble. What can you do when the wife’s at home freaking out and you’re half way across the country?” He shrugged helplessly and Adam gave him the expected sympathetic smile.

“I feel you, man. Guess this is the last one of the night.”

“Yeah. I’m in for a late one. Thanks,” Jesse lifted the glass and wandered back through the discarded peanut shells to a disused corner by the door. Smoke was starting to hover in a white haze and the volume of patrons had increased. In the din he could barely hear the ruckus within his own ear. He pulled out his tablet again and sipped the beer. After this he was never touching another beer again. He missed the bite of whiskey.

The discussion over what should be done still had not reached a conclusion. He had not heard much from Hanzo or Genji. Both had other matters to tend to and neither would flinch at what had to be done. That was one thing Morrison had done right for this mission. Getting the three of them. Though in regards to the others, they were probably going to have to leave Hana in Gibraltar. McCree did not think she would be able to handle it.

“We don’t have a black ops division,” McCree interrupted whatever argument was currently going on. “This is what they do. Not everything is glamor and face-to-face combat. That’s not how terrorists or crime organizations work. If you want the information that will keep you safe, then this is how you get it.”

“It’s like catastrophe triage,” Angela’s frown was clear through her airy voice. “You must make decisions about who to treat based on their chances of survival and the limited resources available. I don’t want to agree to this, but I see how it would be important. I will give my consent, Jesse. I want everyone to be safe.”

“Are you sure, Angela?” Morrison was trying to protect people again. Pigeonholing them into their former occupations. Well they did not have the luxury of ignoring realties of these missions anymore.

“If he thinks the information will help keep his team safe, how can I argue with that. It is not as though he has to kill this person.” Dr. Ziegler had an impressive understanding of the world McCree walked in.

“This just feels weird. Are you actually going to kidnap someone?” Hana asked. Her naivety brought her age into stark reality.

“What do you think bounty hunters do? I do not have to kill anyone. In these parts Deadlock is worth a few hundred bucks. He gets locked up for a bit but none the worse for wear.” McCree explained taking a deep drink of his beer.

“And you are sure this is needed?” Winston asked concerned.

McCree waited for boisterous couple to pass by him. Their cheerfulness contrasting with the intensity of his own conversation to the point they annoyed him. “If we want to know how involved Deadlock is with Talon, then yes. And if they’re gonna stick around after the deal is done. Yes. This is needed. I’d take a high ranking Talon officer too if I could manage.”

“This is supposed to be an observation mission.” Winston growled in frustration. McCree couldn’t help the gorilla. Covert operations seldom went the way they were planned. 

“Goals change,” Hanzo’s deep voice silenced current protests. “You do not want Deadlock to join Talon. Their supply routes are strong. Deadlock and Los Muertos are already too close. Giving terrorists access to arms will only lead to more destruction. I have a potential target with Talon. I will need six hours until I am capable of bringing him without notice. And I will need a car.”

“Not to interrupt,” Genji announced his return to the conversation. “But the warehouses by the train station are surrounded by Deadlock bikes. And are full of heavy guns, rockets, enough to start a full on war. Is the United States government not concerned about how much theft is going on in their stores?”

“Honestly?” McCree shrugged. “It unlikely that they care. They have so much bureaucracy that keeping track of their shipments are the least of their worries. I’ll get the car. Genji? How many whale tattoos have you seen?”

“Current count. Seventeen. I suspect one of the trailers is being used as an office. I haven’t been able to get closer to that one as the guards surrounding it are much greater.”

“Any phoenixes?” 

“Not yet.”

“Genji, we’re going bar hopping.”

“Sounds like fun.” Genji’s audible grin threatened to be contagious. “I’ll find you. But you owe me a drink.”

“Consider it done.” McCree drained the remainder of the watery bitter remains of his drink and left it on the windowsill. The bikers were still starting their night. Only five rounds in. McCree ran a hand through his short hair as he made the decision to leave. Things were about to get messy.

“How many laws are you going to be breaking tonight?” Morrison bluntly put the question out there. With no one outright calling a halt to the change in plans, the gunslinger took it as consent to continue.

Again McCree shrugged even though no one could see him. “Don’t know yet. But I’ll keep a tally.” As he passed the motorcycles parked outside the bar, McCree eyed them appreciatively. He had only been months away from being allowed his own and being an integral part of Deadlock. Ever since the day he lost his tattoo, he knew he would never own a motorcycle. Not that the acceptance of that fact stopped him from wanting one.

[/\\][\/]

At the third seedy bar Genji caught up with McCree. With the clinging shadows cast by the dim streetlights, the cyborg crept along the rooftops. He lost track of the number of motorcycles marked with Deadlock’s skull. If McCree was to be believed the majority of the gang had rolled into town. The cyborg dimmed the glow of his electronic systems. The shadows here were scarce thanks to the neon signs and the flat roofs. Still people did not have the habit of looking up.

He crept across the gravel coated rooftop towards the massive sign proclaiming this unsavory establishment as _Shane’s Bar and Grill_. Massed around the entrance were Deadlock Rebels. Massive men with black leather vests over tattered tshirts. Skulls and wings were the predominate decoration. Tattoos were not an unusual sight considering Genji’s history, but he regarded these crude pictures with distaste. They were a jumbled mess of line art from this distance. Aside from the significant Deadlock Rebel’s identification, Genji did not bother to pick out other details. The whale and the phoenix seemed to be the only other important images. 

Uproarious laughter caught his attention. Below the group of Rebels were belting out loud raucous laughter at some joke Genji had not heard. He leaned against a giant S to watch. McCree, no it was Joel at the moment, was in the middle of the gang, beer bottle in hand. What on earth could the man find to talk about with these bikers?

“What can I say?” Joel shrugged, a small embarrassed smile to his face. It was a strange look. “The moment I start looking, she threatens to cancel all my lines of credit.”

“Dude! You just need to get one,” a shorter man with what appeared to be a Virgin Mary on his bicep pointed at Joel with the hand holding a beer. “If you kept listening to her, you’ll never have fun.”

“You’ve never been married.”

“Nope. Got a girl, but she does what I say. Wouldn’t let it be any other way.” More laughter from the crowd. Barbaric did not seem strong enough for these men. Joel joined with the nervous laughter of a man uncertain of how he felt on the subject. He ran his hand through the blonde hair and looked away. Genji paused for a moment to wonder if he had ever seen Joel in action before. This had to be the first time. All other Blackwatch missions had been full on cocky Jesse McCree. This was strange. 

Joel tipped the bottle into his mouth to avoid having to speak at first. “Whatever you say. Thanks again for letting me marvel at your bikes. They are amazing.”

“No problem, man.” The man with the Virgin Mary tattoo grinned. He guzzled his beer and tossed the bottle at the trashcan. It cracked when it hit the rim, falling to the ground. “Thanks for the beer.”

“Anytime,” Joel raised his bottle to salute the biker before finishing it off. The blonde soldier took the three steps to the trashcan to dispose of the bottle and even took the effort to pick up the one the Virgin Mary tattoo carelessly let clatter to the pavement. Giving the group of bikers a tight wave, Joel tucked his hands into his pockets to stroll back into the bar. 

At the entrance a Rebel that rivaled Reinhardt in size leaned against the wall, smoking a thick cigar. The tang of the smoke wafted in Genji’s direction with the wind. “You want to see an impressive bike, you should see Danny’s.”

“Oh? What makes it impressive?” Joel cocked his head curious. 

“Give me a sec,” the massive biker twisted and Genji saw the tattoo of a blue whale rearing high above an angry ocean. The artist had caught the tension of a ton of weight ready to cause massive damage. Joel glanced at the tattoo with hardly a note of recognition. McCree played this part well. “Hey! Danny! Got a question.” The Jonah shouted into the bar.

The muscular enforcer did not seem fazed as they waited longer than socially acceptable for a slender man with ragged black hair to saunter out with an even skinnier woman on his arm. The potential beauty of a young woman had been striped away leaving a skeleton desperate for another fix. The voluntary scars on her arms explained the whole story. Genji pitied the humanity left in this despair. 

“What is it, Boxer?” Danny circled his arm around the waist of the woman, drawing her closer. She laughed. “I got a night planned.”

The Jonah dropped his dinner plate sized hand onto Joel’s shoulder, causing Joel to stumble in surprise. “This fella here got us a couple rounds of beers. Just to look at our bikes. Thought you might like to show off yours.”

Immediately Joel had both his hands up defensively. “Just to look. I wouldn’t dream of touching them.”

“Eh, I’m busy. You can show him if you want,” Danny casually waved in the directions of another group of motorcycles being guarded by a kid. Boxer’s eyes widened as if this was surprise behavior from the man. But when Danny tugged the woman along towards the alley, the look changed to understanding. 

“Tough luck, pal.” Boxer shrugged. “Ain’t right to show off a bike that’s not yours.”

“Understandable. Thank you for asking. I’ll get you all another round. It’s not everyday I get to admire so many bikes without a salesman pushing you to buy.” Joel’s easy going smile brushed off any possible tension from the encounter. And the promise of beer soothed temporary relationships. Joel disappeared inside the building and almost immediately Genji heard Joel’s voice in his earpiece. The gentle Midwestern accent was a far cry from the expected drawl of the cowboy. “Genji, you with me?”

“Yes. I’m on the roof of the bar.”

“Follow the guy with the girl. Danny. He’s the one we want.” Genji was already moving across the roofs to keep up with the slender man in the black leather jacket sporting the glaring white skull flanked with golden wings and a brass padlock. “Knock him out if you can. But make sure it looks like his fault. Don’t want the girl to suspect anything that will get back to Deadlock.”

“What do you take me for?” Genji asked arching his voice carefully. He was a trained ninja. No one saw him unless he allowed it.

“Sorry. Let me know where to meet you.” 

With barely a scrape of the loose stone, Genji leapt to the next building. The couple turned into an isolated alleyway, which made a perfect location for him. He watched removed as the overt display of sexual affection increased. He stamped down the pang of longing. There was nothing even remotely attractive in a woman whose clothing hung like curtains on the boney frame. 

It was from a remembered time when promiscuity and indulgence ruled his life. The current lack of such rarely bothered him anymore. He was a different man. Different priorities. But now when faced with another man able to seek refuge in physical pleasure, Genji was forced to face the reminder that he was incapable. 

“At least wait until we get to the room,” the woman’s voice grated from years of too much smoke.

“Alright,” Danny groaned and pulled her closer. He stumbled a bit betraying that he had drunk more than his body tolerated. Genji waited. He dropped to an empty windowsill for a better angle. In three seconds the pair would have their backs fully to him. He readied the technologically adapted blowgun with the dart tipped with a sleeping solution. It wasn’t as cumbersome as Ana’s dart gun. Nor was it the traditional _fukiya_ he had trained with as a child. The elegantly slender hollow rod fitted neatly with the carbonfiber exoskeleton of his right leg. It was a new addition for this mission. Tiny darts were preloaded ready to fire with a trigger for the pneumatic propulsion. The whole process was more of a mime of his training. It wasn’t that he couldn’t use a gun. Just that the gun was not easily stored on his body. And his aim was better with the blow darts. Also it brought back the days when he would fire spitballs through straws at his older brother.

He waited motionless. Then a soft whoosh of air and the tiny dart struck with the force of a bee sting. Danny slapped at the back of his neck. Instinctive reaction to being stung. Two more staggered steps and he dropped face first to the curb. The woman cried out in surprise then rolled her eyes in annoyance. “Well, there goes the night.” She crouched to rifle through the Rebel’s pockets. “Sorry, Danny. Even if you’re too drunk to commit, you still gotta pay for the service. AH!” She grin, displaying ill formed and decaying teeth. “Thanks.” She pulled all the cash from the wallet and dropped it back onto Danny’s back. Tucking the wad of cash into her tiny overstuffed purse, the woman sauntered off. Genji didn’t move until she turned the corner. 

This was too easy. He leapt from the second story window and started to bind Danny’s hands with a thin metallic cord. His primary job when serving with Blackwatch had not been to kidnap anyone. Now he did not attempt to continue such a path. His heart warred with his mind as he completed his task. They needed the information this man would have, but he had pushed this life behind him. 

He turned the man to his back and saw a burst of yellow at his shoulder. It was mostly covered by the jacket. When Genji pulled the leather away he saw the firebird. To him it looked more like a golden peacock, but the artist had clearly set the bird aflame. So this was the Kingbird that McCree was after. 

Genji sat back on his heels and pondered how they were going to move this man without notice. And where were they going to keep him. The hotel room was not suitable for interrogations. 

“Genji? Where are you? I got a car.” McCree’s voice broke the radio silence. It was good to hear the cowboy and not the soldier. 

“An alley across from a place called Al’s Grocer.” Genji identified the only icon he could see from the narrow street. 

“Got it.” Genji waited. When a low growl approached the intersection instead of passing it by, the ninja stepped into the shadow of a dumpster. If it wasn’t McCree then he really did not want to be caught next to an unconscious Deadlock Rebel. High pitched tonal beeps accompanied the vehicle as it navigated the alley. A roar of a rolling metal door finally caught Genji’s curiosity to peek from around the obstacle. The tall blonde, clean shaven soldier wearing the pale peach button down was busy further securing the biker. And the man was wearing gloves.

“That is not a car.” Genji stated as he approached.

“It does the job.” McCree grinned and hoisted the slender Rebel onto his shoulder before shoving him into the back of the delivery truck. All white with a faded bakery logo. “Won’t be missed for awhile. Got it from a junkyard.”

“When?”

“Before I hit bar number two. I was passing by and decided to see if it would run.” McCree hauled himself into the back of the truck. Taking a piece of thick packing tape, McCree secured the biker’s mouth. They received a groan from the man. McCree grinned down, “Howdy, Sunshine.” Then promptly rapped him on the temple hard enough to knock him out. The gunslinger continued to secure the biker to the back of the truck. “Don’t need you causing trouble on the ride out of town. Let’s get moving before anyone else wanders by.”

Genji tucked himself into the back of the truck silently. Someone needed to watch the rebel and if too many cameras caught him then either Talon or Deadlock would know who was after them. McCree nodded in understanding before rolling the door into place. The drive wasn’t long, but it was careful. Genji counted the turns. They were heading away from train station and the warehouses. Then out of the city completely. When Jesse finally pulled over, the cyborg only knew their location thanks to GPS monitoring in his systems. 

The rolling metal door screamed open, revealing Jesse and the Santa Fe skyline. Genji lightly leapt onto the sand and spared a moment to admire the glow of the city against the wide expanse of stars. Desert bush and distant shadowed mountains were all that kept them company out here. He turned and noted the abandoned obsolete gas station. A dusty structure lit poorly by the headlights of the delivery truck. Rusted metal fixtures, cracked plastic casings, shattered glass. Brush grew in the manmade structures and the cracked pavement where the water best collected. A ghostly charm filled the place of a bygone age. 

Taking his eyes away from their destination, the ninja stepped closer to the truck to assist the gunslinger in removing the unconscious body. Once back to ground level McCree shouldered the task entirely. This left Genji free to investigate their surroundings. At the moment he was the best weapon in their arsenal. The formerly glass and metal door creaked as he opened it. The wind had pushed the shards into piles in the corners. No lights remained. The soft green glow of his cyborg body cast the interior in an eerie mix of multiple dancing shadows and a world off color. 

McCree was not bothered by this and his shoes crunched over tiny shards and broken tile indiscriminately. Echoing sounds filled the tiny gas station with its empty metal shelves and its ruined back wall of coolers. Genji suspected that once the sun returned those coolers and air conditioning would be sorely missed. He had a feeling that he would be the one babysitting their captives. 

The backroom where McCree turned towards was lined with cinderblocks and no windows. Obviously an employee break room mixed with some dry storage. Again empty shelves and evidence of past electronics on the walls. The gunslinger dropped a collapsible lantern onto the table with one hand where it popped open and filled the room with a white glow. While McCree was busy tying Danny to ugly orange plastic chair, Genji picked up a cracked plastic basket. Whatever it once held was long gone. “How did you know about this place?”

“What do you think I’ve been doing the past few days?” McCree chuckled and tightened the rope around the biker’s legs. 

“You were wandering the city searching for Talon operatives.”

“Yes,” McCree stood, arching back to stretch. “But I also scouted the outskirts. Knew there were places like this. They’re all over the desert. Small towns and fuel stations that are no longer necessary disappear from the map. Make great stashes for illegal goods. This one is on the wrong side of the city for Deadlock Rebels to use as a convenient hold.” The biker’s heal lolled to the side accompanied by a groan. “Ah, look who’s awake.” McCree grinned. “Hi there, Danny!” he called cheerfully and loudly. 

Between the drinking and head injuries increased the Rebel’s headache. Danny winced and groaned again. “Not so loud.”

“What was that?” Jesse asked just as loud and close to the biker’s ear. Danny squeezed his eyes shut in response. “Now, if you cooperate we can see about getting you a simple stint in jail.”

The Kingbird finally opened his eyes and squinted in the light. “Who are you?”

“No one important.” McCree moved out of Danny’s line of sight. Genji noticed that the cowboy’s voice had changed to that of the soldier, Joel. Apparently McCree thought his voice was too distinctive. Was it possible that this Danny would have known McCree? “We just need to know what the Deadlock Rebels are doing in Santa Fe.”

“Not telling you nothing.”

“That’s unfortunate.” Joel’s voice tinged with disappointment. “That’s just going to make things more difficult for you.” Genji watched impassive as McCree stepped behind the Deadlock biker and reached out with his left prosthetic hand. The bounty hunter took Danny’s right pinky. “One more time before the damage begins. Who is Deadlock planning to sell all those stolen munitions too?” Danny’s eyes widened and he craned his neck to look at McCree. 

“You’re not the police.” Even drunk the Rebel had enough sense to know how much trouble he was in.

“Wrong answer.” Joel’s words were smooth and careless. Genji however could see the contrasting look of determination on his friend’s face. In less than a second the Kingbird cried in pain and shock as inhuman strength from the prosthesis broke his little finger at the knuckle.

Ragged breaths from the captive were the only sounds in the small cinderblock room. Genji wondered how much it would take before the man answered the question. He also wondered how far his friend would go. While this was mild compared to the stories he heard of Blackwatch operations or even his own family’s interrogation methods, he had to contain a shudder at watching a man he trusted go through these motions. No matter how necessary they seemed, Genji disliked the image of the carefree, charming cowboy being capable of this type of violence. Perhaps it was good that Joel’s face was branded on this encounter rather than the unkempt Jesse McCree.

“There are nine more fingers to go,” Joel said blandly once the captive appeared to gain control over the pain. “And we know how important that trigger finger is. Take a few moments to reconsider. You’ve been in county jail before. You’ll be out before you know it.” The gunslinger turned his back on the biker as he motioned for Genji to join him in exiting the room. Left alone in pain and the threat of more to come was enough to make many men consider relinquishing all their information. Genji doubted such men would become these highly trusted go-betweens. Men responsible for relaying important and sensitive contract negotiations to the various parties involved. 

The cyborg exited the room with the image of the leather-clad biker heaving heavy breaths of pain against the thick ropes containing him clear in his mind as he shut the door. Squealing rusted hinges overshadowed the man’s expression of barely controlled agony. “He is unlikely to talk.” Genji began.

The straight backed soldier shrugged. From this angle nothing of the cowboy remained. “He will. The question is will it be in time to do anything with the information. It’s possible that we’ll be speculating on everything going on between Deadlock and Talon. If there is anything going on. That’s why it’s important to get the other side of the story too. Deadlock might not know what they are walking into.”

“Speaking of which, you have to take the car to my brother.” Genji used that reasoning to get McCree out of this abandoned gas station. To keep him from committing further acts of torture. This was not the Jesse McCree Genji knew. Necessary or not, allowing one man to continue this line of questioning would change a man. And there were ways of causing discomfort that did not involve harming the captive physically.

“Right…” Joel shook his head before looking back at the ninja. It was McCree’s thick drawl that asked, “Sure you’ll be alright?” It was as if the man was remembering who he was himself. 

“I am sure.” Genji gave a single nod. “If my brother is able to obtain someone from Talon, he will not be able to bring him here alone. I will just keep our guest company until you return. And you still owe me that drink.”

McCree laughed with his shoulders shaking. “Alright. This round’s on me. I’ll bring us back something.” He gave a short wave and disappeared outside. 

With a restrained sigh, Genji returned to the break room to continue what needed to be done. He collapsed the lantern plunging the room into darkness, illuminated only by his own mechanics. “What are you?” Danny managed to ask in a tight voice. 

“Company.” Genji returned pleasantly. He settled cross-legged next to the door and prepared to meditate. It wasn’t until he heard the revving of the truck leave the area did he start his plan for the interrogation.

“Are you supposed to be the good cop side of this thing?”

“Who said there was a good cop?” he asked mildly. The cyborg set his systems to produce an unpleasant low volume hum. A frequency he knew caused discomfort in most all humans. He had to tune his own auditory systems to cancel the noise so he would not succumb. Then he waited. Pain was a commonplace occurrence to gang members. And while a biker would be accustomed to the deafening roar of modified mufflers, this quiet droning hum would fill his ears and annoy his body and brain. Genji watched and waited. They would get answers eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So most of this chapter was written before Doomfist's official release. And I am absolutely thrilled to learn about his background. He has filled a void that I did not realize existed. It will prove to be a wonderful addition to the story.


	7. Hello, Joel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: brief increase in cursing because of Deadlock.
> 
> And apologies for the delay. The release of Doomfist is to blame. You will see the results of my interpretation of him next chapter. I just had to figure out how to reveal the proper amount of tidbits now.
> 
> Please enjoy! Things are escalating quickly now.

**[/\\][\/] Chapter Seven: Hello, Joel**

The rooftop social hour finally concluded and Hanzo retreated to his room. He had learned a good deal from careful questioning of drunk individuals. Yet the most important information still eluded him. Such as who would be attending the business meeting. What did they intend to buy. What did they stand to gain from this social gathering. Hanzo did not like so many questions. Even drunk those decision makers did not seem to know anything about the decisions that were about to be made. Someone was missing.

Hanzo changed from the expensive suit into a conservative suit to blend him into shadows. He left the Storm Bow in its case. He could not bring it with him now because he was not planning on killing anyone this time. And it would identify him to any lucky glance. Hanzo did keep the knife and small pistol on him should the worst case scenario find him. The ninja stepped onto his balcony and touched the dragon sun catcher before finally scaling the building. He had two people he thought would know the information McCree wanted and would not be missed for a day or so. It might be too early to abduct one of them. Tonight might simply be a way to study the chances.

Though he had told McCree he needed six hours to obtain the person, Hanzo was second guessing his claim. The hotel was not conducive to hiding. The large number of people in the close quarters increased the chances of being seen. He also had to search out every security camera and disable them to avoid being seen. Still he scaled the walls and leapt between balconies until he reached the room he was looking for. Two men shared this room. They were high level officers in the security forces protecting the Talon leaders.

By placing a listening device in a corner of the balcony door, Hanzo hoped to learn details that were not discussed in public. He also realized that he would listen to a majority of idle chatter. “Lucio?” He called over the communication line.

“Winston here. We have changed shifts so he can get some rest. How can I help you?” The deep rumbling voice of the gorilla filled the earpiece to the point that Hanzo had to turn down the volume.

“I initiated a new channel. Can you set it to record? I do not know how useful the information will be, but I believe it a worthy avenue to pursue.”

A few moments of silence. “Ah, I see it. I have Athena monitoring the channel. I will let you know if we hear anything useful.”

“Thank you.” Hanzo began his decent back to his balcony. It had been a long night. The next day would be even longer. He was halfway there when a new voice announced itself on his earpiece.

“Hey, Hanzo, I got the car. You ready for it?” McCree had arrived.

“Where are you?”

“The back loading dock. Got one of Winston and Athena’s jamming devices to interrupt the security cameras.” Hanzo changed direction. McCree sounded as upbeat as usual. A pleasant drawl and unhurried nature.

Staying on the roofline and in the shadows, Hanzo glanced down at the loading dock from the forth story ledge. Sure enough the blonde soldier was leaning against a white delivery truck. It was a strange image. One Hanzo had trouble adjusting to. It never ceased to amaze him that McCree had been able to alter his appearance with a shave and a haircut. He looked remarkably like the pictures of a younger Jack Morrison. Hanzo was certain both men would take offense at the comparison. But after hearing the story of how Joel Buchanan was created, Hanzo was certain the Strike Commander had been the inspiration.

“That is not a car,” the archer directed to the undercover cowboy with distain.

“Your brother said the same thing.”

Hanzo snorted. “Then our powers of observation are astute as always. I won’t be needing it right now.”

“You know, if I have to come up here more often, I might actually have to carry baked goods to keep up the cover.”

“No one would believe you were a baker.”

“You’d be surprised,” McCree quipped. Even from here Hanzo could see the huge grin on the man’s face. “Couldn’t get your man?”

“Chose a different method. These people talk more among themselves. And it is too early to snatch one away. Did you get your Kingbird?”

“Genji’s babysitting him right now. He won’t be missed until tomorrow night at the earliest. Might be able to hand him over to the police before long.” From his vantage point, Hanzo watched the blonde soldier open the truck door. “Well I got a drink run to make. I’d invite you along, but it looks like you’re a little busy. Let me know when you need the car.”

“Very well. Though perhaps you should call it what it is.”

“Nah. I’m good.” The truck door slammed shut and the delivery truck left the loading dock. Hanzo was left shaking his head. He picked his way back to his balcony. It was about four in the morning and he needed some sleep before dealing with Talon.

[/\\][\/]

The former Watchpoint: Grand Mesa was a larger facility than Lena had expected. She had not been with Overwatch long enough to be deployed to their various Watchpoints throughout the world. The Switzerland Headquarters had been the only building she had seen in person. Even though Helix Securities had taken over, there were still signs of former Overwatch occupation. Lena wandered behind her Helix Securities guide on her way to meet up with Fareeha Amari. 

A deep disgruntled voice was reaming out some poor soul for dropping a toolbox. “Butter for fingers, indeed.” Lena zipped away from her guide and grinned brightly as she saw the short Swedish engineer.

“Torbjorn! Looks like the cavalry is here after all!” Lena laughed as she watched the white blonde beard turn in her direction.

“I’m never going to live that down, am I?” he grumbled, shouldering a heavy duffle bag.

“Nope, sorry luv.” Lena matched pace with the older man. “What are you doing here?”

“Likely the same thing as you. Winston contacted me while I was working on a big project and asked me to give you a hand. Looks like you all managed to get yourselves into quite a mess.”

“Don’t think that mess has started yet. Apparently I missed some big developments on the plane ride over. Just about to meet up with Fareeha to get the news.”

“Looks like we’re in the same boat then. Careful with that!” Torbjorn shouted to two young men lifting a massive crate. 

“They aren’t going to break anything, Torbjorn,” Fareeha called across the hanger. Her brisk steps brought her through the maze of people and crates quickly. “I’m glad you made it safely. I’m afraid that there is a bit of catching up in regards to the mission, so the pleasantries have to be cut short.”

“Always straight to business, just like your mother.” The engineer chuckled. “You’re not the same little girl I remember.”

“I would hope not.” Fareeha smiled. Together they wound their way to a sleek conference room. “I’m sorry I couldn’t let you settle into your rooms after your long journeys, but I just received word from Winston that we might need to speed up our timeline. It appears the full-blown meeting of Talon will happen in a few days rather than a week. Lucio confirmed this with a change in the ballroom reservations in the hotel.”

Torbjorn set the duffle bag down with a loud clank. “We missed quite a lot while traveling. I know Winston gave me the gist of things when asking me to come here… So, what’s happened in the meantime?”

“McCree and Genji apprehended a Deadlock Rebel they call a Kingbird. Someone with intimate knowledge of trade deals or service bargains.” Fareeha flicked on a monitor that showed the thin scruffy man in a black leather jacket tied to a plastic orange chair. “Genji sent us this feed. From their interrogation of the man. He does seem to confirm that Talon is staying in the El Dorado.” She pressed play and the man on screen started struggling against the ropes. Lena had seen this in movies, but something about seeing it in real life, even if it was a recording, unsettled her.

_“Make it stop! Fuck! Turn it off already! Okay! Just turn it off!”_ The Rebel screamed as he strained against his bonds. _“Boss is going to meet with them on Wednesday. We got a deal set up. Shit! Turn it off!”_

_“Who is your boss going to meet?”_ Genji’s computer aided voice was calm. On the video they did not hear whatever noise the Kingbird complained about.

_“Shit… Look, my contact said Talon needed weapons. I ain’t never heard of anything called Talon. Don’t know who they are or why they want weapons. We just got the supply. Trade for cash. That’s how we work!”_

A metal clang announced the arrival of someone. McCree’s voice off camera answered who. _“What is that god awful noise?”_

Genji’s voice held a hint of amusement when he answered, _“Nothing important. But I think we have our answers. Your suspicion about a weapons deal between Talon and Deadlock appears to be correct.”_ The sound must have stopped as no one else referenced it and the captive seemed to relax. Abruptly a bottle of soda passed across the camera screen. Lena suddenly understood that this recording was from the cyborg’s own eyes. More specifically his visor. _“Hey! I’m in America, the least you could do is get an actual Coca-cola. Not some store brand.”_

_“You’re in America. Store brands are our thing.”_ McCree answered with a hiss of an opening can. _“Nothing about Talon talking about incorporating Deadlock into their operation?”_

The Deadlock Rebel scrunched up his face in confusion. _“What?”_

_“Apparently not as far as this one knows.”_ Genji’s voice returned with a verbal shrug. Then the screen turned black.

Contemplative silence filled the conference room. Lena frowned at the empty screen trying to reconcile the actions taken to provide this information. It was Fareeha who broke the silence. “They went further and collected numbers. McCree suggests that it is the entire Deadlock Rebel’s gang present just outside of Santa Fe. He is concerned about the number of large scale munitions involved in this potential deal. He’s certain it is enough to level a city the size of Santa Fe, but he is also fairly certain that Santa Fe is not a possible target. He is concerned about old Overwatch Watchpoints and Helix’s own bases.”

Lena glanced up from the numbers running across the tablet under the glass table top where she sat. “What makes him think Talon would target the security firms?”

“He claims intuition.” The Helix pilot shrugged. “There is also a tidbit from a bug Hanzo placed. It’s the hotel room of two Talon officers in charge of their leaders security.” She pressed another button and the audio of two men took over the room.

_“Do you really think he’s going to show?”_

_“If he doesn’t, then this will all have been a big waste. Though there are plenty of them who don’t want him to show.”_

“That’s really all there was.” Fareeha shrugged in apology. “But no one can identify who they are talking about.”

Torbjorn rapped his fingers on the table in annoyance. “So on the one hand we got Deadlock Rebels expecting a deal for their stolen weapons. On the other we got Talon expecting some unknown big shot. And still no one knows why so many Talon executives have gathered in one spot? They don’t need that many people to make a deal with Deadlock. Even if they were going to take over Deadlock’s operation. And this is what McCree and Hanzo want to walk into? Fat lot of good it’ll do, if you ask me.”

“They seem to think getting someone inside that meeting will let us better plan against Talon’s objectives.” The tall Arabic woman leaned back in her chair to gage their reactions. 

Torbjorn was the most vocal. “Bah, what makes them think we’ll do any better against Talon now than we did in the past? Overwatch had the latest technology and a horde of agents sniffing out Talon’s plans and they failed. We got what, ten people?”

“Twelve now,” Lena piped up. “At least officially, now that you’re here. Winston is still trying to get Reinhardt to Gibraltar so that will make thirteen.”

“Look at you, now you’re able to count. Fantastic.” The short engineer said dryly even as the two women chuckled. 

The Helix Security Captain smiled at them. “Well, one thing that has gotten us this far is that Talon is not expecting us in the same way the were expecting Overwatch. We might have a bit of an advantage in being small and technically illegal ourselves. Our movements are not broadcasted the way they used to be. As far as our mission in Santa Fe, right now it’s just us three covering the escape route for McCree, Genji and Hanzo.”

“What about Hana? I thought she was coming.” Lena asked.

“We can’t get her Mech into the country unnoticed. The United States has gotten a bit more finicky about allowing international weapons to cross its boarders. My Raptora suit has already been approved for shipment, but they do not have such an agreement with Korea’s Mech pilots.” Fareeha turned to grin at their engineer. “And Torbjorn hasn’t actually built his weapons yet. As far as the government is aware he is here to support the maintenance of Helix’s automated weapons systems.”

The short Swedish engineer snorted in distain. “And I'm sure they need maintenance too.” Even as he said this, Torbjorn was scrolling through the munitions numbers McCree had sent them.

“They probably do,” Fareeha agreed politely. “For now we only have three days to plan our positions and possible escape routes for the guys.” The overhead screen flared to life with an aerial photo of the El Dorado Hotel. “Hanzo suggests staking out the roofs of these buildings. The problem is we do not have much cover. But if Torbjorn can configure his turret to lock onto a specific emblem then we can set him up to the east to cover that broad side. Which will leave Lena and I to take the north and west. Per Hanzo, the south main entrance will be unlikely as the ballroom suggested for use is closer to the loading docks. Do you think you can do it, Torbjorn?”

“I know I can. If you have the emblem” Torbjorn confidently stroked his beard.

“We’re working on it.”

“Of course you are.” The engineer rolled his eyes disparagingly 

Lena leaned forward to study the photo. “Not at all like the sky scrapers in most big cities.”

“Santa Fe decided a long time ago that it did not want any buildings taller than four stories. And it has surprisingly kept that tradition.” Fareeha explained. “I’m still worried about being able to provide adequate cover fire. And if they need assistance while still in the building, Torbjorn and I will not be of much use.”

“That’s where I come in,” Lena grinned. “Not to worry, I’ll be able to slip in to break up any choke holding them in place. Winston said you would have guns for me.”

Fareeha nodded, “They are not your personal ones, but they are the same model. Winston made these as well.”

“Perfect. One more question, how are we getting in?”

“I have permission to fly in, citing a private security engagement.” The Helix officer grinned. “It’s already approved by the company, since they understanding how dangerous both Talon and Deadlock Rebels are. They are sorry they cannot give more help.”

“I say they’ve given enough to get in trouble over,” Torbjorn scowled. He appeared to be rereading the transcript of the interrogation of the Deadlock Rebel. “The U.N. banned all Overwatch activity…. This comes rather close to meeting their definition.”

“Agreed,” Fareeha met the engineer’s eye unwaveringly. “It is a risk we are willing to take.”

Torbjorn simply shrugged. “Whatever floats your boat. I was told Angela and Lucio would be with us.”

Again the younger Amari had the answer. "Angela is flying in as a private citizen. Should be in Santa Fe tomorrow morning. We’ll be joining her in the afternoon. Lucio will remain at Gibraltar. It was decided that brining in another person would jeopardize the secrecy they are trying to maintain. Winston and my mother are keeping Hanzo informed as to our movements. They understand that once they get involved with the meeting they need to be ready for a quick evacuation” Fareeha brought up another picture, a map showing the El Dorado hotel in red and the one they would be based out of in blue. Also highlighted in green was the motel McCree and Genji resided in. “We’re to stay here until Hanzo deems it time for us to take position.” She pointed the blue outlined building first then traveled to the yellow marked target buildings. They corresponded with the sides Fareeha suggested they take once the full-blown Talon meeting took place.

“Wait a minute,” Lena backtracked on a topic that annoyed her sensibilities. “They let her Caduceus Staff on the plane?”

“It’s not a weapon.” Fareeha shrugged. “She goes to medical conferences with it all the time. We will have a blaster for her defense should it come to it.”

“Alright then,” Lena shrugged. Sounded like everything was well handled. “What else do we need to do?”

“Get some rest. Eat. We’ll be flying in early in the morning.” Fareeha answered, turning off the computer systems. Tracer grinned and zipped out of the conference room eager to explore the former Overwatch base. Under the pretense of finding food of course.

[\/][/\\]

“I do not like this,” Hanzo retorted yet again over the communication line. The archer had taken a position in a room with a wall adjoining the ballroom’s upper level. They had already destroyed the wall to where if needed Hanzo could kick open a weak spot between the joists to access to the meeting below. A camera gave him excellent visual of the people below. What the archer was complaining about was McCree’s position in the middle of the Talon meeting.

They had packed up Hanzo’s equipment early that day. Joel dropped off the Deadlock Rebel in an alley near the bar they had found him at. He called the police, claiming that the young man had attempted to rob him. Joel also had to sheepishly apologize for knocking the biker gangster unconscious after his military training kicked in. After taking down contact information, the police officer allowed Joel to go about his business and took the handcuffed Rebel away in his patrol car. Jesse was only slightly disappointed that he did not get to collect any reward money.

“Relax,” the soft Midwestern accent whispered over the line. He was in the middle ballroom, offering tiny portions of food and champagne to the elite crowd. “And be glad they hired human wait staff rather than Omnics.” That had been a surprise. When researching into the details of the event they learned of the outside catering service hired for the night. It didn’t take long for Joel to slip in with the staff.

Hanzo returned brusquely, “Because humans can be killed if they know too much. Omnics can have their memories uploaded.”

Jesse kept the polite smile on his face despite the annoyed buzzing in his ear. This needed to be done, despite the archer’s complaints. He knew Genji had a position in a room close to the exterior windows. He had the best mobility to assist either group should the situation take a turn for the worse. He too was aided by cameras to view the activity in the ballroom. There wasn’t much going on right now. Just a bunch of rich people chatting with each other. 

The bodyguards and what Jesse concluded were Talon agents out of uniform ringed the doorways and petered out in the exterior halls. Even into the kitchen where Jesse had entered with the catering staff. There were still enough new people for the event that the boss of the event staffing did not know everyone. Which meant Joel was not the only new face. Currently he was milling around with a champagne tray in his left hand and worrying about his Peacekeeper tucked at his back into the waistband, hidden by the black vest. He did not stash enough bullets to take out all the soldiers he saw.

“Sure is a fancy get-together,” Jesse commented, turning away from a trio of well muscled men who had taken a glass of champagne. Nope, he did not have enough bullets if half of these suited decision makers could also fight. “And none of them are talking business.”

“That means if Deadlock was doing business with them,” Hanzo commented, “it is unlikely it would be here. I am still doubtful that this is purely a social event.”

“Do high class criminals actually do that sort of thing,” Jesse wondered aloud as he disappeared into the kitchen to trade dirty glasses for newly filled ones.

“More often than you might expect,” Hanzo chuckled.

Jesse cocked his head to the side as he caught movement further down the hall where a small collection of uniformed Talon agents took residence. “Well that will be quite the disappointment. Genji, what’s that room about five doors down from the kitchen?”

A few moments of silence as they waited for the cyborg to investigate. He was likely searching the blueprints downloaded into his computer systems. “Looks like a smaller conference room. Why?” The mechanically assisted voice hummed through the radio connection.

“Heavy guards. Light foot traffic. We need to get in that room.” Jesse returned to the ballroom and offered his tray to a couple discussing Saudi Arabia’s military capabilities and if Oasis was truly the wealth of knowledge it claimed to be. When he turned away, Jesse whispered, “I need a target.” He had a few more of those bugs Lucio had created and could slip them onto an unsuspecting target if they could get the right one.

Unintentional radio silence followed as both Hanzo and Genji scanned the crowd from their vantage point. Jesse continued to weave through crisp suits and sleek gowns, offering the tray of drinks and collecting discarded glasses. He caught snippets of conversation along the way. Disparaging remarks about Helix Securities. Complaints of how the international banks were strangling their cash flow. Laughter at how useless the United Nations was. Even idle speculation on the discontent among Omnics.

“Found a possibility.” Genji announced with apprehension. “But you’re not going to like it.”

“There is a lot I don’t like,” Jesse gave the milling underground brokers a cursory glance under the pretense of looking for empty champagne flutes. 

“Behind you at about your four o’clock there’s an Omnic in a black suit.” Genji directed Jesse’s gaze. The debonair gunmetal gray Omnic with glinting red eye slits wore a sophisticated black suit marked with a gold pin. He currently appeared to be having a conversation with two gentlemen “I’ve seen him come from that area more than once.”

Jesse redirected himself to the kitchen to avoid appearing to be staring. So long as he functioned as the rest of the wait staff, no one would think twice about him. “I’ve never had to pickpocket an Omnic before,” he commented softly. The sentient robots were notoriously hard to surprise and their impressive amount of sensors made it difficult to misdirect touch.

“I wouldn’t recommend it.” Genji’s voice sounded amused. The line went mute as the others waited for him to explain the offhanded comment. “It’s a long story. Perhaps another time.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” Jesse muttered as he went through the tedious task of balancing another tray of top heavy glasses of weak bubbly alcohol. He set to make another circuit through the crowd of criminal elites. This time to make a pass towards the prospective Omnic. If he timed the encounter right, he might be able to stick one of the bugs to the lining of the Omnic’s coattails. 

He was just closing in on the trio of criminals when the Omnic made an excuse and briskly walked away. Jesse continued his path regardless and wordlessly exchanged the glasses with the other two men. Obviously something was happening or the important looking robot would not have scurried off so quickly towards that back conference room. 

The gunslinger wanted to ask his companions what was going on as they could see more, but Lena’s soprano beat him to it. “Uh, guys, I think we’re about to have a bit of trouble. It looks like the majority of the Deadlock Rebels are rolling up to the loading docks of the hotel.” Through the open communication line, Jesse heard the familiar rumble of distant motorcycles. “And they look like they mean business.”

“Hanzo,” Fareeha’s stern commanding voice took over the radio. “I recommend you withdraw. Our information did not include a possible confrontation between Talon and Deadlock. McCree, it appears as through Deadlock plans to enter the hotel by way of the kitchen. You need to find another exit.”

Jesse wasn’t ready to pull out. They needed to get something behind that conference room door. Also he did not have a good exit strategy that did not include the kitchen. It would look strange for a waiter to meander towards the front lobby. Hanzo’s reluctant agreement announced the end to their observation mission, “Understood. Genji, join Tracer. If either group decides to attack them, they will need assistance. I’ll cover McCree’s retreat.”

“Easier said than done.” Jesse surveyed the ballroom. “No one in here is concerned, and few seem to know what’s happening outside.” The peaceful milieu among the criminal elite belied the impending chaos. The gunslinger was stuck walking through the crowd waiting for an opportunity to withdraw without notice. Men in high priced suits carried on their conversations. Ladies with their flashy jewelry continued to flaunt the wealth. The party went on.

Tracer’s voice called out an urgent warning. “Might want to hurry it up. They’re entering the building.” Cue the panicked screaming and crashes of glass. Kitchen and wait staff raced out of the doors, terror clear on their faces. These were not combatants. The raucous laughter echoing from the kitchen told Jesse for certain that the Deadlock Rebels had entered the building. He along with the wait staff stood stunned for a moment, then they hastily fled, dropping all trays in their hands. The crash added to the building chaos. The massive number of people with no idea which direction was safest scattered away from the kitchen, complicating everyone’s attempt at escape.

“McCree!” Hanzo’s voice cut through the voices of alarm. It was a question of whether or not the cowboy needed assistance.

“Working on it.” McCree growled. By now the non-combatants in their finery ran along side the staff. Jesse was jostled by the stamped for the exit. Gunshots spurred the panic. He tried to ignore the urge to turn and engage in the firefight. The Talon uniformed soldiers forced their way against flow. The gunslinger saw an opportunity. He knew the archer wanted him to get outside. More so now that bullets flew over their heads and screams of pain joined those in terror. Jesse McCree had a better idea.

Two black uniformed men elbowed their way through the crowd. McCree determinedly turned towards the hallway with the suspected conference room. Hysterical men and women made if difficult to stagger his steps properly. It did assist in faking his fall. Using the soldier’s harsh elbows and the surge of people behind him, Jesse slammed into the door. The force knocked the air from his lungs. No acting needed. He gasped for breath. In his ear Hanzo yelled at him, “What do you think you’re doing!” There was no way he had voice to answer after a fall with that much force. Talon did not care who they shoved aside to reach the attacking Deadlock Rebels.

One of the soldiers bruised Jesse’s arm as he yanked the apparent blonde waiter up. “Get out of here!” the voice was muffled by a helmet. He threw Jesse into the stampeding crowd. McCree did not need further encouragement. Fear stricken like the rest of the ballroom escapees, Jesse darted for the interior hallways. Rapid gunshots accompanied the stomp of shoes. This was not his fight. Yet in the chaos, his hand managed to slip under the door and stick one of Lucio’s listening devices to the wood.

“Alright, Hanzo,” Jesse grinned as he turned down a now isolated hallway. The gun battle mute echoes at this point. “Let’s get out of here.” There was no answer. From anybody. “Hanzo? Genji?” Someone cursed violently. And it wasn’t English. “Hanzo! What’s going on!” The cowboy beelined it for the corridor the archer should be exiting. Silence like that only meant two things. And he was not going to have it mean mortality.

“Talon came up the stairs.” Hanzo’s shouted over machinegun fire. He sounded angry. It did ease Jesse’s fears though.

“On my way,” McCree called, hoping the archer had proper cover to survive long enough for him to arrive. He reached the top of the stairs and found seven armored Talon soldiers attempting to breakdown the hotel door where Hanzo had hidden himself. The soldiers did not notice him yet. He had time to remove his Peacekeeper and carefully aim. With a deep breath in he steadied his hand and planned his shots. The one the machinegun had to be first. One man would be left alive. It couldn’t be helped. 

Time felt sluggish. Sound vanished into a narrow cone focused on the threat before him. Colors washed away leaving only the important shapes of targets. He saw the weak points in the helmets. One inch from the ear below where the eyepiece slid into place. Another target with his back to Jesse had a death shot at the base of the neck where the black helmet rose above the shoulder armor. These points came with concentration and opportunity. The tingle of anticipation burned low in his gut. At any moment one of those riflemen could turn and interrupt his study and the duel would be complete. These moments in the heat of battle spurred his excitement. Never knowing which moment would be his last. He wouldn’t still be doing this if he didn’t find some sort of enjoyment with this sensation of the unknown.

Six shots fired. Six men dead. The cascade of corpses freed Hanzo to kick down the door surprising the last soldier standing with an arrow to the head. In a flash of color and sound the world returned to normal. McCree no longer had the splitting headaches immediately following this technique. Still the return to the chaotic present always managed to disorient him for a few seconds.

Pharah sounded over the comm. “Hanzo! Report. What is going on in there? Do you need support?”

“Negative. We are engaged and withdrawing,” Hanzo said notching another arrow into his bow and studying McCree. The archer looked for signs of injury. Jesse shook his head and reloaded his Peacekeeper’s cylinder. With a satisfied nod, the older Shimada trotted down the hall away from the stairs. McCree followed without question. It was time for escape. The ballroom massacre was now silent. Neither him nor Hanzo knew where those combatants had gone.

This obviously was not going as planned. Together they raced down the hall searching for an exit. Hanzo stopped in front of a window overlooking the courtyard when Lena announced another ominous warning in her typically chipper voice. “Uh, guys. We got a big problem.”

“Tracer! Get out of there!” Pharah shouted over the line.

“Thought he was in prison!” Torbjorn’s gruff voice filled their ears. Hanzo’s eyes narrowed as he listened to the shouted conversation.

Genji’s lighthearted tease came next, “Don’t you listen to the news? He just recently escaped.”

A frustrated growl from Winston drowned out any further attempt at communication. “Doomfist. Why is he there?”

“Don’t know, but I’ll ask him for ya, big guy,” Tracer tried to lighten the mood.

McCree frowned. He had not met this Doomfist but he had heard of the man through news stories and the nearly fatal encounter of his friends Lena and Genji. If that man was involved then they needed a new plan. The sharp crash of glass refocused the gunslinger’s attention on his current companion. Hanzo studied the grounds with an increasing frown. “Where is he?” the archer asked over the radio. His voice was remarkably calm for the situation.

“Rooftop.” Genji answered immediately. His single word suggested he was in the middle of a fight.

The elder Shimada tentatively leaned out of the window to gage the presence of enemies who might pick him off as he climbed the exterior wall. “Go.” McCree nodded towards the window. “I’ll make my way down and cover a withdrawal.”

“Understood.” Hanzo agreed. The ninja shouldered his bow and climbed out of the broken window. Alarm colored Hanzo’s face the moment he glanced over Jesse’s shoulder. The cowboy was already turning when Hanzo warned, “McCree! Behind you!”

Jesse felt the bullet lodge between the thin armor plates he managed to fit under his shirt. It took his breath out of him. Still he rolled away from the continued shots and six bullets found their way into the offender. Gunshots flew over McCree’s head, forcing Hanzo to seek cover. Two other soldiers had come up from behind the first. Without a doubt the archer climbed to the roof with Genji and the others. Little else could be done. Jesse was left crouched at the base of a broken window, glass shards crunched under his feet and tiny blood drops darkened his white shirt. He was cornered and without all the tools he usually had because he had chosen to take a deep cover position.

He was in the middle of reloading when a gravelly voice came up from behind him. “Hello, Joel.” Reaper’s white mask met him over the barrel of a shotgun. And Jesse’s revolver was empty. McCree had never hated the name Joel more than right then.


	8. Victory

**[\/][/\\]Chapter Eight: Victory**

The near silent hovercraft loomed over the El Dorado Hotel that evening. It was invisible to standard detection and money did the rest. Akande watched as the roar of motorcycles washed over the area causing chaos. It was the distraction and purge he had been waiting for. He motioned for his companions to exit the aircraft. Lacroix leapt from the platform and darted across the sky with her grappling hook. She took a position to oversee the chaos of the fleeing partygoers. Sombra tossed her translocator and disappeared into another building to cause her own brand of chaos. Finally Reaper dematerialized and oozed into the hotel itself. Everyone to their location.

Akande gripped the rung of the metal ladder and dropped from the hovercraft. He jerked as the chains reached their limit. It brought him closer to the roof where he landed amid the potted yucca plants and flowering cacti. Everything was going as planned. At least until he came under heavy fire from the roof of a neighboring building. “Sombra, the turret.” He ducked behind a large clay urn. Their guests managed to surprise them. That was unusual.

“Already on it, boss,” the amused high pitched voice answered across the radio line. Akande nodded and readjusted his white coat once the pulsating turret fire ceased. Straightening the cuff of his right wrist, he thought of how his next stop would be Numbani to retrieve his gauntlet. But his current cybernetics would be enough for tonight.

Familiar soft carbon fiber footsteps bounced off the stucco roof. “Well, you are braver than I have given you credit for.” Akande turned and presented a pleasant smile to the cyborg. Though he did not see the young man’s face, the defensive posture was enough to prove Genji held some hesitancy in facing him again. “But I do not have much time to play with you.”

“You will be imprisoned again.” The ninja darted to the left keeping twenty feet of distance between them. Shurikens grazed through the white fabric of Akande’s left shoulder. He had taken out this brat before. It would not take much to do so again. He settled into his fighter’s stance and watched. With all the darting around the cyborg made it difficult to judge his next step. One small improvement since their last fight. But still predictable.

With his enhanced right arm, Akande ripped a clay urn filled with dirt and plants from its base. He threw it at the next landing of the cyborg. Genji had no recourse but to save his footing. The ninja rolled to the side, close enough for the dreaded Doomfist to strike the man square in the back. Even without his Gauntlet the punch sent the cyborg crashing into a cement wall of a stairwell. “I am disappointed. You have not upgraded since our last engagement.”

“Rooftop.” The mechanical response was obviously not meant for Ogundimu. It meant Genji’s friends would join him soon. Akande needed to finish this quickly.

Leaping forward, his fist met the cracked stucco. The cyborg ninja was gone. He Akande pivoted quickly. His forearms blocked a wild strike of a sword. He scowled as the coat met with more tears. His own cybernetics clicked attempting to harden against the blade. The nanobots coursing through his systems gave him adequate protection. Now Genji was close enough to grab. The massive African snapped his right hand out and gripped the cyborg’s throat. He lifted the mess of robotics and flesh heavy in his grasp.

“Drop him,” the new male voice came up from behind.

With a half turn Ogundimu saw a familiar face. “I did not expect you to hold such sentiments for your brother, Hanzo. Considering last time we met you refused to acknowledge his existence.” Akande was not concerned with the arrow aimed at his head. Nor the look of determination on the archer’s face. His main focus was keeping his hold on the struggling cyborg.

“At the time I believed my brother dead. Times have changed, Akande. Drop him.” Hanzo drew the bowstring tighter as his determination grew. Ogundimu paused. Not out of compassion. But he saw fury deep in the archer’s eyes. Self hatred. And not for the younger brother currently in Akande’s grip.

“I will ask you again, Hanzo.” The African said lightly, as if they were in a board meeting rather than a battle. “You should consider joining us. I still believe our agendas align.”

“I declined your offer before, Akande. I will decline it again. Our paths are not the same and yours will not grant me anything. Let go of my brother.” The hesitation to strike gave enough time for the African to make a decision. And enough fodder for future encounters.

“Understood. Take him. I have other matters to attend to and do not have time to amuse him.” Akande tossed the cyborg over the head of the archer. His strength even without his Gauntlet was sufficient enough to send the ninja flying to the opposing side of the roof. Hanzo released his arrow but it met with empty space. Akande sprinted for the edge of the roof. The four story drop was nothing his body could not handle. He would just have to enter the building by another door.

[\/][/\\]

“Hello, Joel.” Reyes growled through the electronic voice assister. Reaper towered over his former agent, his shotguns aimed directly for McCree’s head. Clean shaven, blonde hair, even blue contact lenses. There was no mistaking the guise of the soldier Reyes had drilled into the boy’s head when teaching him covert tactics. McCree had taken to the idea as quickly as a stone to water. So many years. So many lessons. And they had only produced one possible alias based solely on the kid’s imitation of the Strike Commander. At first Reyes had thought it was potential. Later he learned it was only mockery and Jesse wanted nothing to do with these types of covert tactics. Still the boy had learned. He had become good at that one alias. So good that now he wore it as a second skin in the middle of a Talon function. Every single one of these men and women knew who Jesse McCree was and not a single one of them had recognized the man serving them drinks. Gabriel had not even known McCree was in the building until he was staring straight at him.

The hatless cowboy was still crouched from rolling to avoid another Talon soldier’s shot. The revolver still empty. Reaper had caught McCree mid-reload. A speed loader in the plain mechanical prosthetic. A good twelve inches stood between the bullets and the gun. It might as well have been a mile. “Didn’t expect you to survive this long.” Even as he said this, Reaper noted the painful breaths from the gunslinger. He studied his former subordinate carefully and realized the man was trying to favor his right ribcage. McCree had not come away uninjured.

“Always full of surprises. Could say the same of you, Reyes.” Despite the position, the cowboy did not seem too concerned. “So how are we going to do this?” He grinned from where he crouched. His Peacekeeper and speed loader stock still as McCree tried not to surprise the jumpy trigger fingers around them.

“That depends on you. Conscious or unconscious, you’re coming with me.” Reaper caught the glance McCree sent to the window behind him. The one the Japanese archer had fled through not five minutes ago. “They are otherwise occupied and won’t be coming to help. And those kids you have watching your backs… Let’s just say the Calvary is not coming.” Widowmaker and Sombra would make quick work out of Amari and Oxton.

“Don’t give a man many options, do you?” McCree still had the revolver in one hand and the reload canister in the other. Reaper growled in annoyance as that detail continued to push into the forefront of his mind.

A dreadful sense of déjà vu overwhelmed Gabriel. This was not the first time he had cornered McCree. It was not the first time he had said these words. It was a mediocre script doomed for repetition. “Never have. Now how cooperative you are going to be this time?”

“Ah hell. What makes you think I’ll be more cooperative than last time?”

“I don’t.” A slight flick of his left shotgun had a Talon agent club McCree just as the gunslinger started to move his left hand. “Damn ingrate,” he growled. Reaper reached down and plucked the communicator from McCree’s ear. “Once you set a trap, you never know what you’ll catch. Right, Jack? I’m taking back what’s mine.” He crushed the earpiece before a reply came through.

The anonymous Talon soldiers disarmed McCree and bound his hands. Reyes scowled behind his white owl skull mask. He was staring at a stranger. A concept from his past that he wanted to forget. A blonde soldier he didn’t have the guts to kill. “Get him to the transport. He’s coming with us as soon as we’re done here.” Reaper wrapped his talons around the revolver and studied if closely as if he could find the answers to why he didn’t just kill its owner. Tucking the gun into his coat, Reaper stalked down the carpeted stairs of the high end hotel. It was amazing that they had not leveled the building yet.

He met Akande in the hall. Signs of the Deadlock Rebel massacre were littered everywhere. Police would be arriving soon. “You took your time.” Reaper’s mechanically assisted growl filled the hallway.

“I had a discussion with the Shimada Brothers. One we will need to conclude later.” The large black man glanced behind Reaper as if to see the results of his end of the mission. “Did you succeed?”

“McCree is on the way to the transport now. Genji is the only Blackwatch operative not under Talon’s control.” Reaper confirmed. Somewhere in his half dead, ever regenerating mind Gabriel Reyes balked at the statement. The rest of him resigned to the facts.

“Then let us see if Maximilien has finished removing the listening devices Sombra discovered.” Together they walked through the devastation. Corpses littered the ballroom and blood soaked into the carpet. Deadlock was messy but effective. Reaper did not approve of using the motorcycle gang as cover for the assassination of Akande’s enemies. He had given his opinion. And Doomfist had done what he wished anyway. Deadlock had a way of getting even if they ever determined they had been used. Even if they had been paid handsomely for the service. 

Akande opened the conference room door revealing three men gagged and bound to the chairs watched over by five armored Talon soldiers. Maximilien sat at the head of the table working on several computers. “This ended up being very expensive and very messy, Akande.” The debonair Omnic tilted his head towards the newcomers. “Was it worth it?”

“It will be.” The Nigerian turned to the three men. “Good evening, gentlemen.” Akande straightened his white coat even with the tears from his confrontation with the cyborg. “From my understanding, you three have conspired to have me eliminated before I could rejoin this organization. Citing profits. I wanted to personally inform you that this organization is going in a different direction. One that will not include you.” The sharply dressed men struggled against the ropes holding them in place. This would be quick. “We must be on our way. This social hour you put together turned out to be quite successful. I should thank you.”

The door opened and all eyes turned to the brazen purple clad woman who had interrupted. “Sorry, boss. The Overwatch people have fled. And I found this under the door. Thought you might want to know. This one was new.” Sombra held the small black and gold microphone between her thumb and forefinger. 

“Clever. It must have been placed tonight.” Akande stepped over to the young woman.

“I’d say during the party. Or immediately after.” Sombra shrugged.

Akande picked the listening device from Sombra’s hand. “I hope you enjoyed the show. But time for you to return to your regularly scheduled program.” He crushed the bug then turned to the occupants of the room. “Any ideas?” At first silence met the question.

“Sir? There was a possibility.” One Talon soldier stepped forward. “A waiter stumbled during the rush to flee the bikers.”

Reaper frowned as the pieces came together. “Was he blond by any chance?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Seems like McCree remembers his training.” Reaper rolled his shoulders, in part dismissing the revelation. In part attempting to disguise his approval. “That’s the man you wanted brought in.”

“Interesting.” Akande spoke to the mangled piece of metal and plastic between his fingers. “He gets more interesting the more I learn about him.” Doomfist faced the three bound men with a large smile on his face. “Thank you, gentlemen. It was a pleasure working with you. But I’m afraid your positions have been terminated.” Akande waved a hand and the masked soldiers raised their weapons. Three gunshots accompanied Doomfist as he exited the room. “I’m sure you’ll have this mess cleaned up next time we meet, Max.”

“You should probably lay low following this. We will have difficulty setting up any sort of meetings because of this.” The Omnic warned.

“We have a war to start,” Akande glanced over his massive shoulder. “Laying low will not be tolerated.” Reyes was left to wonder how the man planned on igniting another war when the world was desperate to forget the first.

[\/]

“So this is Jesse McCree.” Doomfist loomed over the unconscious gunman. They were tucked into the transport, flying to wherever Akande had chosen to establish their next base of operations. “There is a vague semblance to his wanted poster.” The African gripped a stowage strap as the aircraft encountered turbulence. 

“Joel Buchanan. An alias created for missions that needed a bit more subtly than he is otherwise capable.” Reaper explained. He stood behind the massive black man. Both studied the blond man chained to a seat along the edge of the craft.

“I see.” Akande transferred his attention to McCree’s prosthetic. “Model S43V7. A few customizations and aesthetics.” Reyes did not feel the need share the information that this prosthetic was not the one Jesse typically used. It was clearly different from the one that appeared in the wanted poster. “The connection is rather impressive. But otherwise obsolete.” Akande reached to grab the appendage and crushed it while it was still connected to McCree. The screams emanating from the man was horrific. To wake from unconsciousness to agony pulled lung fulls of painful cries from the gunslinger. McCree was wide-eyed and gasping. “Nice of you to join us.” Doomfist then ripped the metal arm from its connectors, sending a new wave of unprepared screams into the aircraft.

Reaper stood aside impassively. He had witnessed more debilitating dismemberments in the past. McCree was no worse for wear than when he had experienced the first amputation. Still the computer aided nerve endings would surge pain through his nervous system as if it were his real arm. It was the only way realistic movement could be achieved in cybernetics. In the far corner of the plane, Sombra winced as she buried herself in her holographic computers. Lacroix sat strapped in her seat also impassive. She appeared asleep even as the howls echoed in the steel enclosure. McCree struggled to contain his response to the excruciating pain. Heavy labored breaths were soon overwhelmed by the rushing wind as Akande opened the external door. Blasts of freezing winds whipped around the occupants. Ogundimu was an unmoving wall of muscle as he watched the white expanse fill the opening. He threw the mangled piece of metal far from the transport. It disappeared immediately.

McCree glared at the massive African but was unusually silent. Reaper could tell by the constant flinching and grimacing that the remaining wires connected to the nerves continued to misfire. The pain would be unbearable. His own constantly regenerating and dying body underwent such torture regularly. McCree at least would have such suffering end. The door closed and pressure in the cabin equalized once more. Akande started to talk. “Don’t worry, McCree. We will give you a new one. A better one. Soon this will be nothing. You will be stronger after this, McCree. Consider this a new beginning.” Doomfist grinned in what could only be considered encouragement. McCree scowled, silent only because controlling the agony took precedence. Akande did not realize how strong McCree already was. The white hot glare should have melted Ogundimu’s own prosthetics into a brown puddle.

[\/]

Reyes sat at the bare table studying the unconscious Jesse McCree. This very scene had played out way too many years ago. In fact all of it had been too familiar for Gabriel to simply ignore. From the moment he had caught Jesse at the base of the broken window, he felt the gnawing annoyance of familiarity. He had tried to avoid that feeling since gaining consciousness following the explosion that should have ended his life. Yet every time he encountered someone from his past life, Reyes burned in rage. 

Rage at how those individuals had survived. Rage at how their lives had gone on while they forgot about him. Resentment pulsed through his decayed remains even as life coursed through him inciting pain to his deadened limbs. 

But this was different. This was life mimicking itself. Throwing memories in his face just to spite him. Proving that no one ever changed. This didn’t fill him with the familiar rage. This filled him with dread. He knew the outcome before they even started. It had begun the moment McCree had opened his mouth back in the hotel. No only one result would follow. And Jesse had no choice in the matter. 

Midway through the flight to this bunker, the cowboy had finally passed out from the pain. It was a partial relief to Reaper. It meant he would not have to answer any stupid questions. It also meant the inevitable was delayed and gave him more time to ponder how karma worked. He had watched as the medical professionals greedy enough to work for Talon finally gave McCree sedatives so they could properly remove the connections for the prosthetic. It meant the constantly firing nerves would stop. The pain would stop. And the cowboy would wake up to a missing arm.

He had watched as they cuffed him to the sturdy metal chair in the empty room. He watched through the one way mirror as Jesse slumped from exhaustion and sedation. Both would wear off soon and the process would begin. Reyes should be satisfied that he had the opportunity to talk sense into the cowboy before Talon began. Gabriel also knew that McCree would not listen to sense even when it slapped him in the face. It was how he ended up in trouble most of the time.

This time as Reaper studied the former Blackwatch operative he remembered a different man. A man who had been formed and molded by his situation but was also not contained by it. The man he stared at now had been shaped irrevocably by the events in his life. But Gabriel remembered the kid with potential.

][

_Three Blackwatch operatives dead and two severely injured. All caused by this one cocky, black leather cowboy and his six-shooter. Reyes scowled over his shotguns at the Deadlock kid caught in a corner attempting to reload his revolver. Thin but muscular. All the makings of a Deadlock Rebel. Though the broad brimmed hat ruined the biker image._

_If Reyes had not seen his agents go down himself, he would not have believed it possible. This kid had stepped out of a miner’s cave, paused for a breath and rapidly fired six shots into the Blackwatch team below. If Reyes had not had the sheer luck to see the kid first and duck out of the way, he might have been included in the list of injured or dead. Then the chase was on._

_The enhanced soldier made quick work of the chase and caught the kid in the corner of a diner. The revolver was empty and the kid had a clip of bullets ready to reload. Reyes had got to him first. Shotguns to the kid’s head. “Didn’t expect you to almost bring down my entire team.”_

_The kid grinned, apparently disregarding the trouble he had put himself in. He was crouched and waiting for a moment to spring into action. Self assured enough despite the shotgun barrels six inches from his face. “I’m just full of surprises. So, how are we going to do this?” his eyes flickered from the shotguns to Reyes’s face, trying to judge the best course of action._

_Reyes was furious and it showed. He scowled down at the kid. “That depends on you. Conscious or unconscious, you’re coming with me.” He caught the glance towards the door. “They aren’t coming. They’re either dead, in handcuffs or long gone. Not really the type of crowd to rescue the idiots who got captured, are they.”_

_“Don’t give a man many options, do you.” The kid weighed the reload canister against the two fully loaded shotguns. His empty revolver did not seem like much of a comparison._

_“Never have. Now, how cooperative are you going to be?”_

_“Hell, what makes you think I’ll be cooperative?”_

_Reyes saw the desperate move coming. The kid jerked swiftly to try and reload. Reyes was quicker, the barrel of his shotgun rammed into the kid’s throat. With the kid stunned and gasping for breath, Reyes kicked the revolver out of the boy’s hand. His own backup had the handcuffs on the kid before the Deadlock sharpshooter caught his breath. “Keep this one separate,” Reyes told the agent who hauled the kid off with the others. “He and I need to talk.”_

_That’s how they ended up in a police interrogation room. Just a table, two chairs and the ugly, tattered cowboy hat between them._

][

This time there was no hat. No simple handcuffs securing Jesse to the chair. The gunslinger’s mechanical arm had been removed. The nub hung useless. The other arm was bound tightly to the back of the metal chair. The chair had been welded to the floor to prevent the captive from toppling over. McCree’s legs were similarly strapped to the chair. The kid had become a rather strong man and Talon was not eager to have him cause trouble. He had also been stripped of all but his black dress pants and stained undershirt. It left the man vulnerable. The image was painful to someone who knew McCree preferred layers of body armor wrapped in a hideous poncho.

McCree was coming to and his left upper arm was the only limb allowed to move. When he understood the restraints he woke up further and aggressively tested them. McCree snarled and steadied his gaze on Reaper. “Hello, Reyes.” The similarities of the past continued. _“Hello, Shotguns.”_ Same acidic tone. Same cold voice. Same threatening bite.

“McCree,” Reaper returned flatly. He was not pleased by the situation. Still he took a seat opposite the hatless cowboy. 

“Well, what’s the plan this time?” McCree shot off. His eyes starting to take in the empty interrogation cell. 

“I told them I would talk to you before they got started.”

The phrase brought the gunslinger’s deadly eyes back to Reaper with the white expressionless mask and black all encompassing coat. “Got started with what?” McCree had an uncertain edge to his voice now. Good that the Deadlock kid got suspicious. 

“As you have already figured out Talon absorbed Blackwatch. Almost before Overwatch was disbanded. Of the Blackwatch members that were not present at the time of the Explosion, Talon has recruited most quickly.” Reyes explained dully. He was simply stating facts. His opinion of the matter did not factor into this plan of theirs.

“It didn’t take you long to go bad.”

“Took you a lot longer to even appear good. Still have trouble with that, I see.” Reaper dropped a wanted posted for McCree on the table between them. “Your bounty has gotten quite high. Seems the government wants you desperately. What would you say if that bounty on your head simply disappeared?”

“I’d say that offer sounds too damn familiar.”

“Probably is. Actually it is rather impressive how deep Talon’s reach goes into the world governments.” Reaper let that sink in. “Yes, I’m giving you another choice. Either way you will be joining Talon. The question is how much reconditioning will you go through.” The isolated room went silent. McCree’s expression darkened as he understood his situation. “They have given up on Genji. The cybernetics and the years with the Shambali make him a poor choice. You are the only one left.”

In the following silence, Reyes could see the thoughts cross the clean shaven gunslinger’s face. First disbelief then realization and finally obstinate defiance. All expected from the independent biker turn cowboy. Reyes had not expected McCree to willingly join Talon. Not after his conversion to upholding justice for those who wouldn’t otherwise experience it.

“I reckon you aren’t keen on the idea of reconditioning either,” McCree said finally.

“I told them having you join of your own volition would produce a better agent. They don’t seem so convinced. Not that I blame them. You’re just as likely to turn double agent and destroy them. So I can’t blame their decision.” Reaper tried to sound disinterested, but he suspected McCree could see right through him. The gunslinger simply did not bring the former commander’s concern to the forefront of their conversation. Reyes hated that lingering sensation of emotion. It made things too complicated.

“And what do you get out of this situation?” McCree attacked, leaning as far forward as his bindings let him. “You’re not the type to work for those terrorists. You used to want to help people. What happened?”

“Unimportant.” Reaper shifted to walk around behind McCree. The door was situated so the prisoner could not see who entered. “I’ll let you consider your options.” He left the room to the sound of McCree demanding an answer. A good half day of isolation should be enough to get a decision. Reyes was certain of the answer. Talon would have their chemicals and equipment in the room before the designated time was up. Lacroix got off simply compared to what was planned for McCree. After all it was always easier to convert a civilian than someone with actual resistance training.


	9. Defeat

**[\/][/\\] Chapter Nine: Defeat**

Morrison sat alone at the main console pulling together every bit of information they had on Talon and Reaper’s activities. It seems so little in the face of their newest plight. What Reyes had planned in capturing Jesse McCree did not bode well for the cowboy. But it also felt out of place from Reaper’s previous actions. The question became how much of this was inspired by the arrival of Doomfist. Since that man had been in prison for the past six years they did not have much about his motivation in Talon. Everything led back to a dismal picture of unknowns. Jack needed to find these answers or risk loosing another agent.

He refused to look away from the screens when Winston entered the room. The large body came to stand directly behind him, shadowing the screens. “You need to rest.” When Morrison did not respond the gorilla moved his massive frame closer and turned off the monitors. “It is not your fault, Jack.”

“I never said it was.” Jack finally turned to face the scientist. “I just… What does he want with McCree?” It was the one question he felt could answer everything about that night. From what went wrong to why Talon collected in such numbers to begin with.

“We will find out. You are not the only one looking. Hanzo and Genji are working together to find more information about where Talon might be holding him. They found the tracker placed in his prosthetic. In the Himalaya Mountains.”

“But there was no facility there. Nowhere to keep him.” Jack ran a hand through his white hair, glancing back at the black screens. “I don't understand why.”

“We’ll find out. Get some rest. You’re not going to solve it tonight.” Winston drew back to give the soldier space.

Jack pushed away from the console where he had spent the last twenty hours since the loss of McCree in Santa Fe. He rubbed his eyes, red from lack of sleep and hidden tears. “Every mission. Every time I sent people out on missions and they did not make it back… The weight gets heavier. There is no way around it, Winston. Part of it will always be my fault. I will always feel responsible. That is what happens when you are put in charge. I know Hanzo is feeling the same. That is why he and Genji have not rested since escaping Talon. McCree gave them an exit but they could not help him. The guilt is maddening. I said I was going to be done. But here I am. Doing exactly what I said I would stop doing.”

Winston settled down near the chair Morrison occupied. “You are good at managing these type of missions. They are not easy. I can understand the difficulty you go through. I am not good at these things. I recognize the need for those brave men and women to act in an effort to protect others. I am simply a scientist. I might have initiated the recall but I have never lost people in the line of duty the same way you have. Still, you cannot place all the blame on yourself. Even you cannot control all the elements on the field.”

Jack silently regarded the insightful gorilla and sighed heavily. “Do you regret making the recall?”

Shaking his large head, Winston pursed his lips in thought. “No. No I don’t think so. Even if we’re considered illegal, we’ve already stopped more potential harm by interfering with Talon. Even if we’ve only saved the lives of other Overwatch agents. They deserve to live without looking over their shoulder.”

“You know why Reyes is after former Overwatch agents? He blames us. He blames us for turning him into Reaper.” Jack finally admitted to the conversation he had with Reaper. “He blames us for leaving him to suffer. If I had known he had survived the explosion I would have done something.”

“Would you?” Winston asked archly. “Not to sound rude, but you disappeared after the explosion as well. We all assumed you and Commander Reyes had died. Would you have given up the anonymity of death to face whatever Petras had in store? I do not blame you for choosing to hide until you too saw that the world was falling into greater despair than before.”

“I can’t blame you for your observations, Winston. Assuming death was easier. We had already lost Ana. Then the arguments with Gabe. It was all too much. I’m sorry for leaving you with this mess. I was done with trying to solve the world’s problems and then facing the people’s concerns and fears.” The former Strike Commander again looked to the black computer screens as if they held the answers. He rubbed his burning eyes and felt a huge hand rest on his shoulder for comfort. Right then it felt good to not be alone in this.

“It became too much for you. Being the public face of Overwatch.” Winston simplified the issue.

“Yes.” Jack finally admitted.

The gorilla nodded as if a long standing belief had been reaffirmed. “I’m going to tell you something that Commander Reyes told me in confidence. He won’t like that I am revealing it to you now, but I don’t think he is really in a place to complain.” Winston waited until Jack was looking back before continuing. “It was during the Blackwatch suspension. After the Japan incident. He had come to the lab requesting an update on Genji’s health. For some reason he had not wanted to go to Angela. I did not question it too closely at the time, but because of the extent of Genji’s injuries I believe he felt that Angela blamed him for not having his agents interrupt the fight between the brothers sooner. But that was not the end to our discussion. Gabriel was quiet and reserved. I have never seen him that way. It had always been a self assured stoicism or the cheerful banter. He seemed very uncertain. Anyway, what is important for you to know, Jack, is that Gabriel trusted you deeply. He said, and I quote as near as I can, ‘Ever since I met him, I knew Jack was capable of greatness. I hated him for it for awhile, but then I learned to use it. To trust it. The man made me his friend. I never asked for it. I thought I would have been better without it. But… without his friendship I would be dead or criminal. He is the man I turned to when we had to go head to head with the Omnics. He was the one I turned to when we had to answer the UN. I don’t want to cause him trouble, but I can’t stop what I do or he is going to be in worse trouble.’ That speech, that confession stayed with me because of how honest it was. How deeply you affected him and how much he wanted to keep you safe.”

“He said that to you?”

“As near as I remember. I wrote it down afterwards to try and remember it better because it affected me deeply. I kept it in confidence until now because I respected him. Now that I’ve seen what he has become… I am worried. If he feels betrayed… there is no telling what he will do.”

“Well, he is willing to murder his former collogues for one. And allow his subordinates to be brainwashed for another.” Jack scowled at his hands. He still could not believe his old friend was capable of everything he had learned about Reaper’s activities. “We are not likely to find McCree anytime soon. Which means next time we see him, we might not like what we find.”

Winston shifted his bulk in thought. “We cannot know that.”

“No. We can’t,” Jack sighed. “But part of the job is to think of the worst possible cases. The best case scenario is we find him dead. The worse, we end up facing him on the battlefield along side Gabe.” Wearily the old soldier stood and studied the black screens again. “I am sorry I cannot be more inspirational,” he added when he saw the frown dominate the great ape’s face. Jack knew his own experience had made him cynical with the world. He was now incapable of suppressing that side of him to give false hope to those around him. “All we can do now is continue our search for possible hideouts for Talon and pray that we find McCree before they get to far. Goodnight, Winston. Inform me if there are any developments.” The gorilla was right. Jack needed some sleep before he continued the search. If the soldier thought he could catch Reyes, then he needed much more information and far more luck than ever before.

[\/][/\\]

“Hanzo, we need to get out of the elements. If you freeze to death before finding Jesse, then he will never forgive you.” Genji tailed after his brother in the snowdrifts. Towering over them were the jagged teeth of white tipped mountains. They landed in a valley near where his computers said the distress beacon landed. The drifts came to their calves and they cut two paths from the transport. A head of them was a crevasse. It would be the luck of nature that the prosthetic had fallen down that deep hole in the valley. Genji watched his brother trek ahead of him dressed only in a thin black jacket and the same combat attire he wore in Santa Fe.

Immediately upon escaping the massacre at the hotel, the brothers took Fareeha’s transport and followed McCree’s distress beacon. It took them far from the American Southwest into the snowcapped mountains of Nepal. They had not found the prosthetic and Genji was certain they would never find it. It was luck enough that the device survived long enough to trace the signal to this desolate location.

Now his older brother stalked through the bleak white landscape. The coat his brother wore was not enough for this weather. The wind chilled the skin within seconds and the altitude kept the atmosphere cold enough for the snow to remain on the ground year round. Genji’s own cybernetics kept his remaining biological tissue within normal limits. Despite his limitations, Hanzo was determined. He was not listening to Genji. The ninja knew why. His brother blamed himself for the loss of Jesse McCree. Hanzo had been the last one with the gunslinger. 

“Hanzo… We are not going to find anything out here.” Genji tried again.

“We must. The longer we go without finding anything, the less likely we will find him in the future.” The archer tugged his coat closer in the evening bitter wind. He was still watched the empty landscape as if hope lay just out of his reach. Genji could not understand why this loss affected him so much. His brother had only known McCree for a few months. For a former yakuza boss who was used to killing and sending to people to their deaths, this assassin obsessed over the capture of the cowboy. 

Genji was not going to question it for fear of alienating his brother. They both wanted to find the gunslinger. “But Talon would not have tossed Jesse’s prosthetic anywhere near their base.” The cyborg kept trying to talk reason into his older brother.

Hanzo released a frustrated sound. “Then what do you suggest?”

“Let’s get some rest. Regroup with the others. We need to pull together all of our knowledge. This isn’t your fault, brother.”

“I know that!”

“Then stop acting like it!” Genji watched Hanzo stalk back to the transport. Never once making eye contact. At least his brother was heading into a warmer environment. It did not help the man’s conscious though. Genji trotted to the transport and slipped into the pilot’s seat. He wanted his brother to rest. Hanzo had been awake ever since the mission. The archer huddled in his seat and refused to communicate further. It made for a stressful flight. Genji however did not fly back to Gibraltar. He flew to his sanctuary in Nepal. The one he had spend years recovering from his internal rage.

The Omnics there knew the area, but they were not going there for help in the search. They were going for an attempt at rest. If they returned to the Watchpoint then Hanzo would continue to agonize over the case. When they landed, Hanzo frowned as he realized they were not where he expected. “Where have you taken us?” he accused.

“A place to rest. And perhaps someone who might have noticed unusual activity flying overhead.” Genji left the console and expected his brother to follow as the cyborg took the electronic key for the transport. Reluctantly the archer followed. 

Genji breathed deeply as he gazed at the Shambali Sanctuary. The temples and monuments felt like home now. The wooden structures felt like stepping back in time, a world away from the electronics and troubles of the modern environment. Yet the occupants of the village were products of that world. Dressed in muted earthen tones, these Humanoid robots sought a life away from the humans who disregarded them as people. Here in his travels he had met one particular Omnic who managed to change Genji’s view of himself and the world. 

With his sullen older brother in tow, Genji warmly greeted the familiar Omnics they passed. He was looking for one in particular, but instead turned toward his room within the monastery. As expected Hanzo was distracted once they entered the small space decorated with only the essentials. “Is this where you have been all these years?”

“After I left Overwatch, yes.” Genji answered. “Eventually anyway. I couldn’t return home for obvious reasons and I did not particularly want to confront you when I felt like killing you.” He shrugged as if the violent emotions of the past were no longer important. He pulled out a tin of green tea from the teak cabinet and set water on to boil on the small hotplate. Going through the practiced motion of preparing the tea, Genji continued to explain. Anything to get Hanzo to stop thinking about McCree. Sometimes a mind worked better when it was distracted. His brother was like that. Spending too long on a project meant Hanzo became frustrated and stubborn, but letting him work on something completely different typically brought a solution to the first problem. “Also… I was not particularly welcomed anywhere I went. Too Omnic for the humans and surprisingly enough, too human for the Omnics. At least until I met Master Zenyatta. He was persistent.” An absent smile formed as he thought of those early days.

“He would have to be to deal with you,” Hanzo said, his mind reflecting on the past. He settled on one of the pillows and accepted the cup of tea. Genji sat across from him. Silence settled around them, cushioned by the worn patterned rug and the mattress tucked against the wall. It was not much, but Genji was willing to share it.

It was one of the few times the brothers shared a room since Hanzo finally made the decision to join the recall effort. Neither one was as comfortable around the other like they were as boys. Genji at least was willing to try to befriend his brother again. Hanzo however chose to keep Genji at arms length. Distant from the present as he dwelled on the mistakes of the past.

And now loosing McCree to Talon weighed heavily on Hanzo’s mind. 

“Welcome home, Genji,” the mellow mechanical voice of Zenyatta filtered through the silence. A stately silver humanoid Omnic clad in deep yellow and burnt red hovered near the doorway. 

“Greetings, master,” the cyborg stood to welcome the Omnic into the small room. “I’d like to introduce you to my brother, Hanzo.” The archer stood and automatically reached out to shake Zenyatta’s hand.

“It is an honor to meet you,” he said. Beyond the expect phrases of salutations, Hanzo was closed off to deeper conversation. The two stared down each other and Genji wondered how to break the silence this time.

“I sense the same rage that once consumed your brother,” Zenyatta tilted his head in curiosity. Genji sighed. This was not the path he had hoped the conversation would take.

“We are nothing alike!” Hanzo scowled and immediately stalked from the small room. Tea and conversation forgotten.

“I am afraid he is not ready for such introspection yet, master,” Genji watched the distant clouds as his brother was no longer visible. “We are missing one of our friends. His locator beacon transmitted a location to the north mountains but the beacon was in his prosthetic arm. So we are certain he is not here.”

“Who are you missing?”

“Jesse McCree. A former Blackwatch Agent when I worked with Overwatch. He is a good friend of ours. And he was taken by Talon. I am afraid my brother blames himself for the loss. He has refused to rest since we lost Jesse. I brought him here to seek rest and possibly assistance. I know the community does not like outsiders, but he needs some place that will not accuse him of anything. I do not think the members of the Overwatch Recall will, but he may not see it the same way.” His friends would not blame Hanzo, but his brother would interpret the conversations that way. The archer tended to personalize everything. He was trying to prevent deeper guilt from forming in Hanzo’s mind. Fault was not solely his.

“It is alright, Genji. Your family is welcome to stay as long as it is needed.” Zenyatta hovered next to his student. Both gazed at the clouds drifting through distant mountains. “The astrological observers might have noted unscheduled air traffic. I will be happy to ask them. Do you know the timeframe we are need to look for?”

“It has been twenty seven hours since Jesse was taken. We estimate their transport left Santa Fe eighteen hours ago. We identified the beacon here twenty three hours after the incident. We suspect the transport is capable of supersonic speeds. Unfortunately our transport could not travel that fast so we arrived recently.”

“Are you able to identify the purpose behind Jesse McCree’s capture?”

“No. Hanzo and I have been attempting to locate Jesse. Commander Morrison has chosen to lead the investigation as to why Talon would take him.”

“I see. Go after your brother, Genji. I will speak with the observers.”

“Thank you, master.” Genji bowed and left in search of his brother. He knew they should not have allowed the gunslinger to go into the hotel ballroom alone. Though Jesse had been able to free Hanzo from a siege situation, the lack of battle preparedness on the cowboy’s part led to the failure of the encounter. The armor Jesse wore under the dress shirt was a far cry from the typical armor he wore. It was less protection than the mission required. Still the undercover position was one McCree had thought necessary. The cyborg had not learned the results of that portion of the mission. He hoped it was worth it.

[/\\][\/]

Ana held a warm mug in front of her daughter. The small team had returned devastated minus the Shimada brothers and one over-the-top cowboy impersonator. Fareeha gave a half-hearted smile as she took the black mug of tea. “We will find him.” Ana reassured the younger woman. The night was cold and the distant waves sounded loud. Lights of passing ships cruised in the dark waters. 

“I was supposed to guard the escape.” Fareeha stared despondently into the dark liquid. She sat at the edge of the cliff overlooking the straights, wrapped in a thick quilt. The white diamond pattern shone brightly in the moonlight.

“I know, child. It is a heavy burden.” Ana settled next to her daughter, cupping the warm mug in both of her hands. “I have been searching for Reaper for months now.”

Fareeha’s sharp voice matched the wind. “You mean Gabriel.”

“Yes. Gabriel. I am not sure why he has taken this path. I do not know if Jesse was taken by plan or opportunity. But I promise you, we will find him.” Ana forced confidence that she was not currently feeling. Jesse was her student. Part of her extended family found in Overwatch. The old sniper could not blame anyone present at the hotel. These types of events happened. The longer someone worked as a soldier the more often they saw events they could not have changed no matter what they knew. She knew her own daughter had already encountered such an event in the Temple of Anubis. Ana was glad her daughter has survived the battle.

“I know. But I can’t get rid of the feeling I should have done more.” The pilot voiced a common emotion following a failure.

Reaching her arm around Fareeha, the old sniper offered support. “You always will. There is no way the guilt ever leaves you. I should know.” Ana thought back to all the times her skills were not enough to save her team. Loosing them to bullets and loosing them to capture felt the same. The entire base had the air of misery. The only solution was to grieve then work through the horrible emotions to get the job done. 

Jack was finally asleep. Tomorrow he would be hard at work. The information from their work prior to joining the recall effort would be combined with Winston’s knowledge and with any amount of luck they would get an idea of what Talon planned. The return of Doomfist suggested the organizations next goal. A worldwide spree of terror awaited them. Though Ana did not desire to face the public, she was convinced that the efforts of Overwatch were needed once again. She would protect these people. But she could not protect them from everything.

[\/][/\\]

Sleep deprivation. The oldest technique in the book. Still around because it worked. Every moment he dozed off either a loud noise woke him. Or worse a robotic arm prodded his wound causing searing pain throughout his side. Jesse McCree swore he had been awake for nearing two full twenty-four hour periods. Not enough to break him. But enough to wear him out. 

He had seen Reaper once since their conversation. When Jesse told him, “Not on your life,” Reyes cackled. 

On his way out Reaper’s gravelly mechanical voice taunted him. “I’ve already died once, McCree. You just lost.”

The only other faces that came into the interrogation room after that were the medical staff. Whitecoats and surgical masks. Nothing to identify them personally. Nor did they say a word despite Jesse demanding answers. They provided him with water and some horrible tasting protein mix. Not enough to sate his growing hunger, but apparently enough to ease their minds about his ability to heal. They also changed the bandage on his gunshot wound twice now. The wound itself was healing. They kept it clean. But no painkillers. Every slight movement caused searing pain. That alone kept him awake. He wondered how long he would last. 

Getting caught was his own fault. Not that he could have avoided it. He had covered Hanzo’s escape. He would not have changed any moment of that night. Jesse was certain they had the information needed to further their observation of Talon. The archer had escaped unharmed. Coming face to face with his old commander caught him off guard. The near identical conversation to their first meeting that followed echoed in his brain. And he wasn’t going to discount his curiosity as the dialogue continued. They hadn’t had the opportunity to talk in China.

Surrounded by Talon agents, McCree knew the situation would not have gone any other way. Though this was not quite what he expected. Sitting in a white interrogation room, chained to a metal stool and kept awake with the promise of brainwashing. He did have to say that Blackwatch had taught him enough to make this initial attempt easy to combat. But the lack of conversation with any other Talon operative, made him nervous. He knew the story of Amilie Lacroix turning into Widowmaker. If they could do that to a civilian, what would it take to do that to him?

Jesse’s body pushed him over the edge towards sleep. His head fell forward. His mind went blank. The blaring noise and shock off pain woke him with something new. “Hello, Joel.” A loud, echoing male voice rang through his ears. Jesse scowled. What did Reyes hope to gain from this new tactic? He knew McCree hated the alias.

“My name’s not Joel,” he muttered. His half asleep brain screamed at him to pay attention. This was different. Things were changing. He needed to be prepared for the next tactic. He was just so exhausted. The pain irritated him. It all made it hard to think. His thought process wandered.

Now he wondered what his friends were doing. What they were doing. Jesse knew they would try to find him. He hoped their efforts came to fruition soon. He doubted it would happen soon. Talon was a detail-oriented organization. And they were powerful. His friends would have difficulty finding anything. He tried not to devolve into depression. The reality of the situation still weighed heavily on his mind. Jesse was stuck here. His side burning. His mind foggy. His limbs aching. 

The left stub bandaged from where the doctors had removed his cybernetics. Still the nerves misfired. When Jesse first lost the arm it took months before the nerve from the cybernetics healed. He doubted he get out of this situation before he healed. He just had to keep his strength, which was slowly draining away.


	10. Perseverance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay. Work disrupted my writing time. And I was struggling with a transition in the story.
> 
> Then Blizzard gave us the gift of Moira.
> 
> One of the joys of writing a fanfic when the lore is not complete is getting thrown these little surprises. Her backstory doesn't change much in this world and may help answer a few questions. For now she gave me the bridge between scenes that I needed.

**[/\\][\/] Chapter 10: Perseverance**

“Tell me again why we are using the alias?” Akande stood at the one way mirror watching the gunslinger chained to the chair. McCree wore gray scrubs from the last time the medical staff cleaned him. He was attempting to stay awake for the third day in a row. Dark circles hung under the weary brown eyes. Currently his shoulders sagged against the cuff holding him to the chair. The stub of his left arm swung forwards with a clean white bandage. 

“He never liked the name.” Reaper stood next to the towering leader of Talon. “It was forced on him.”

“And yet he voluntarily uses it.” Akande frowned. Reyes simply shrugged. He couldn’t explain why McCree chose to do anything. It was usually a random choice or spur of the moment opportunity. The massive Talon leader turned away from the window and pinned his calculating eyes onto Reaper. “That does not explain why we are using it.”

Containing an annoyed sighed, Reyes was glad the white mask hid his facial expressions as well as the never healing wounds. “You will not get the same results with McCree as you did with Lacroix. He had training against brainwashing techniques. He was a soldier, not a civilian. In order to break him you need techniques he will not immediately recognize.”

“No one has ever withstood the combination of psychedelics and deprivation before.”

“McCree has withstood quite a bit more than you realize. Creating the alias required extreme measures. And for what you want, you’re going to need measures beyond those. I told you he would never agree to join Talon.”

“Then why did you insist on talking to him? I should have known better than to let your sentiments get in the way of the goals.”

Reaper scowled, though no one would know. “It is not sentimental to try and get him to cooperate. Even a small seed of doubt and inevitability will save you some time in this project.” Though he did not particularly care for the idea of brainwashing the cowboy into joining Talon in the same way the organization had stolen Amelie Lacroix, Reyes had to agree that it was a smart move on their part. The gunslinger was effective. And the newly reformed attempt at Overwatch would hesitate to kill one of their own. It also deprived them of experience. 

Akande turned his attention back to the gunslinger strapped to the chair. The man had dozed off, his head hung low on his chest. “Hello, Joel!” The blaring voice startled the blonde haired cowboy. He snapped his head up and glared in the direction of the speakers. “M’name's not Joel,” McCree muttered tiredly.

“The moment he starts answering to Joel, then you can start the next phase.” Reaper turned his back on the window. “I have better things to do than babysit your project.”

“Is that so?” The new voice came from the doorway and Reyes was face to face with a mad scientist. “But you already did so much to bring this moment into being. The least you could do is see how it plays out.” The gaunt woman in a white lab coat and a shock of bright red hair blocked the exit.

“O’Deorain,” Reaper growled. “Didn’t know you were taking an interest in Akande’s new pet project.”

“Oh, this little thing? You really should know better, Gabriel. I asked for a new lab rat. At least someone here believes in my work.” Moira O’Deorain grinned. “You turned out fantastically, think about what I can do with McCree.” It was Doomfist who snorted in annoyance. Moira shrugged, rolled her eyes and moved to the window to study the gunslinger chained to the chair. “Akande here believes a new prosthetic and some brainwashing is all that is needed. I disagree.”

“Of course you would,” Akande answered. “Genetic enhancements are peculiarly specific. McCree already has the talents we need in a soldier. We just need him to start working for us. As we did with Lacroix.”

“Creative differences aside, I believe I know a good mix of chemicals that will rewrite his memories.” Moira tapped her long fingernails on the glass. “It will be ready in a couple of days. And Gabriel, you might want to be there for it.” When the angular face turned with a wicked smile Reyes felt a chill down his spine. “Wouldn’t want to ruin all the memories he has of you.” The sporadic click of acrylic nails on glass continued as the geneticist thought. “Though I would have loved to get my hands on that cyborg.”

“We’ve been over this Moira. Shimada has already been brainwashed by the Shambali.” Akande announced. 

“All the more interesting to give it a try.” The scientist grinned to herself as she planned the next phase of McCree’s reconditioning. “That will have to be for another day. As always, it is good to see you again, Gabriel.” Moira gave a gracious nod in Reaper’s direction before disappearing back through the doorway.

“She always did know how to make her presence known.” Reyes frowned after her. Genetic modifications were not something that should be forced on anyone.

Akande also stared at the door where the scientist vanished. “That has not changed.” A sudden announcement of _Hello, Joel_ startled both of them back to the matter at hand. McCree groaned at being woken again. “We will take things from here, Reyes. I will let you know if he causes any unforeseen problems.”

“I’m sure you will.” With one last glance at the shaved cowboy nodding off as exhaustion over took him, Reaper went on his way. 

This gathering together of like minded individuals held the potential for great things or a disastrous blunder. Akande alone had the charisma and wealth to sway almost any government to his side. Maximillian oversaw enough loansharks to keep the whole organization funded for nearly a decade. Now they had the builders of the foundations for a new world. A top Negotiator for Vishkar and a Minister of Oasis would remake the earth to suit their desires and wills.

And him? He was the tactical genius who made sure their fantasies played out. Not that he had anywhere else to go with his never-healing, ever-healing corpse of a body.

[/\\][\/]

“Hello, Joel.” The words bounced around his head. Never a moment’s peace. Just when he thought oblivion would take him, those words trumpeted him back into the wakeful world. Jesse didn’t think his body or mind would hold out much longer. 

Every time that voice blasted through the speakers, he heard Reyes. He saw Reaper. He was having nightmares and McCree knew he wasn’t even asleep. The white mask dematerialized from the shadows. Mechanical cackling filled the air. _”I’ve already died once, McCree. You just lost.”_ It was not the voice of his old Blackwatch Commander. It belonged to some new monster that dared to to claim his name.

What he would give for his cigar right now. Even a cigarette.

The hinges of the door behind him creaked. His brain focused on anything that wasn’t utter silence or the blasted voice. He was getting visitors. The medical staff arrived. If he was counting right this was the fourth time they came and changed the dressing on his gunshot wound. He had no energy to fight them anymore. They held the god awful protein shake for him to sip. Same routine. It was over in ten minutes. Then they would be gone. Left alone with the speaker for hours.

A buzzing announced something new. His exhausted brain did not register it until it was too late. The electric razor cut a path through his hair. He jerked his head away, trying to avoid the next pass.

“Relax, Joel. We're just getting you cleaned up.”

“My name’s not Joel.” 

“Of course it is.” The easy voice tried to sooth him. Other hands held his head still so the razor could do its work. All these men wore surgical masks and scrub hats. There was no way for him to identify any of them. “There. That wasn’t so bad, was it, Joel.”

The faceless torturers left. The door clicking softly. He was left clean shaven and bald.

And his side ached something fierce.

He leaned forward, his arm straining against the bindings. The left stub hung free. Trying to move it still sent flashes of fire along the nerve endings. 

Closing his eyes to the blinding whiteness of the room, Jesse tried to will sleep to come to him.

“Hello, Joel.”

][

_”Hello, Joel.” Commander Reyes said on entering the conference room. A stack of folders in his hands._

_Jesse groaned. “My name’s not Joel.”_

_“For the next six weeks it is.” Reyes dropped the folders in front of the sharpshooter._

_“Excuse me?”_

_“That little act you pulled with Commander Morrison held potential. We’re going to see how far it will take you.” The Blackwatch Commander opened the first file in front of McCree. It was a bio of some man named Joel Buchanan. Everything from the blond hair and blue eyes to the military experience read like a carbon copy of the Strike Commander’s history._

_“Who’s this?”_

_“That’s you.”_

_“No. It’s not.”_

_Reyes leaned back against the table and crossed his arms. “McCree, let me ask you something. Where do you think we get all the information we need to carry out our missions?”_

_Jesse shrugged. “Highjacking the computer systems I guess.”_

_“No. If only it were that easy.” Reyes dropped a new picture in front of the young cowboy. “What do you see?”_

_Now Jesse had no idea what Reyes was talking about. He picked up the picture to study it. His brow creased as he realized something. “That’s the diner. How did you get this?” The picture showed the inside of the Panorama Diner at Deadlock Gorge. The one right under the train tracks. The crazy pictures and slogans on the walls. Bikers chowing down burgers and fries._

_“That’s not telling me what you see.”_

_“Well, there’s old Billy who runs the joint. Frank and Herb sitting down for lunch. The boss going over the plans for the next heist. One of the old drifters that hangs around until he’s run out of town by the boys. Nothing unusual there.” Jesse pushed the photo back towards his commander with a shrug._

_“Really?” Reyes’s eyebrow rose skeptically. So high it nearly disappeared under the ugly black beanie he wore. “Nothing out of the ordinary?”_

_“No. Just looks like a normal day at the diner.” Jesse paused. Picking up the picture again he studied it more closely. Something finally clicking. “Except how this picture was taken. No one seems aware of a photographer.” A small stack of photos landed on the file while he was occupied with this one. Jesse poked through the new ones. All were of the diner. It seemed like the same day. And every single one had the same drifter in the frame. “Hang on… Who is he?”_

_“Good thing you can shoot. You’re terrible at spotting the similarities.”_

_Another picture fluttered onto the pile. This one was a portrait of the drifter. Head on the old black man looked familiar. In a strange way. Jesse glanced up then back to the picture. He even held up the picture so he could compare it more easily to the commander standing right in front of him. “Can’t be. You’re him?”_

_“Took you long enough.” Reyes shifted and took a seat across from Jesse rather than standing over him. “Yes. I didn’t trust anyone else with getting that close. Not that we don’t have men and women more adept at infiltration than me. Just that I didn’t trust them around Deadlock.”_

_“So you're telling me that you walked into the diner and took pictures without anyone knowing?” The cowboy sat in stunned disbelief. “How?”_

_“They’re called FlyCams. Insectoid robots that take pictures with one person as a reference point. As for the rest. Make up and a personality change.” Reyes shrugged. “I think you can do it. We’re going to start with Joel. Might as well make good use out of you mocking the Strike Commander.”_

][

“Hello, Joel.”

How long had he been awake now? His eyes were heavy. His limbs were lead. Just a few minutes and he would be right as rain.

“Hello, Joel.”

His side screamed in agony. The metal prod disappeared back into the wall. He watched dully. With fresh waves of pain to sustain him, he would be awake for several more hours. At least until the wound turned into a dull ache again.

[\/][/\\]

The day was startlingly clear. Hanzo shaded his eyes as he walked out of the transport behind his brother and the Omnic monk. Somehow he had managed a nap during the flight from Nepal to Gibraltar. He probably owed it to Genji’s new found ability for silence. Something he probably should thank the Omnic for. Instead the archer padded quietly behind the robotic pair. 

“Welcome back, Genji!” Fareeha called from the command center. She and the others walked down the concrete steps leading to the base that had been carved from the mountains.

Genji waved. “Sorry to borrow your transport for so long, Fareeha.”

“That’s okay. Helix let me use another one to get back.” 

While the two conversed, Hanzo studied those who came to greet them. Winston dominated the space with his bulk. In front of him stood Lena and Angela welcoming them back. Hana and Lucio were curiously staring at the Omnic Genji brought along. Zenyatta hovered next to the cyborg and waved to them. Most notably absent were Morrison and Amari. The two old soldiers who help direct the mission. The archer hoped they had a better lead on the captured cowboy than what they found.

“Oh, let me introduce you.” Genji said as if the concept completely escaped him. It might have considering his excitement at reuniting with his friends. “This is Master Zenyatta from the Shambali Monastery.”

“Wow. It’s an honor to meet a member of the Shambali.” Lena trotted forward with a welcoming hand. “Mondatta was an inspiration to me.”

“To us all. I miss him greatly.” Zenyatta nodded gracefully to accept her sympathies. 

“He’s agreed to help us find Jesse.” Genji returned to conversation to their most dire problem. The general murmur of agreement followed the group up the stairs. Hanzo turned the other way. He did not want to be involved with the reunion yet. It still bothered him that he had left Jesse at the window instead of joining him in the fight. It was a choice between his brother and his friend. Not a choice he had ever wanted to make.

A dwarf of a man came around the corner forcing Hanzo to backpedal. The platinum blond hair and unusual round prosthetic marked this man to be the Overwatch engineer, Torbjorn. They had met briefly before Hanzo and Genji sped off to find the locator beacon. The apology on his lips was brushed aside quickly. “So things didn’t go as planned. They seldom do.”

“You don’t seem too upset about the loss.”

“It’s not going to change anything if I was or wasn’t. Come on, I got someone I want you to meet.” Torbjorn turned back the way he came. Curiosity overcame Hanzo’s desire for solitude. The engineer was right. His emotions about the matter were not going to change anything. Might as well continue on and search for a solution. The two of them headed in the opposite direction as the others, down into the hanger. Birdsongs and cheerful beeps echoed across the cavernous walls. As they came closer, Hanzo saw that the source of the sounds were what he had assumed to be a pile of discarded machine parts.

“Is that…?” He couldn’t bring himself to say the word. A deep ingrained fear kept it from his lips.

“A bastion? Yes, it is. Found him like this. People were so afraid of him that they wanted to kill him. I even went to kill it.” Torbjorn paused when the bastion unit waved and chirped at him in what had to be a hello. “But this Omnic wasn’t trying to kill anyone. Seemed to be more afraid of the people than the people were of it. Bastion, this is Hanzo. One of our friends.” Awkwardly the archer waved up at the machine built for destruction. The walking machine gun waved back with the same cheerful chirp he had given the engineer. “The other's haven't quite decided how to take him. Don't expect you do either. But always a good idea to introduce you before you come across him unexpectedly and get the wrong idea.”

A bright yellow bird fluttered around Hanzo’s head. He was probably imagining it, but the bird seemed to be chirping questioningly at him. When Hanzo held up a hand to offer a perch, the bird accepted immediately. This earned him approving beeps and whirls from the bastion unit. “Hello, there.” He stroked the yellow plumage gently then the bird took off to settle on Bastion’s offered finger like appendage.

“I call her Ganymede. Thing needs a name.” Torbjorn shrugged.

“It is a good name.”

“Bastion seems to like it here. What with the echoes and all.” With that the short engineer turned away. “Well, I got some work to do.” This left Hanzo alone with the Bastion unit.

He sighed. “If you’ll excuse me, I prefer to meditate outside in view of the ocean while I’m here. It is nice to meet you.” Hanzo gave a polite nod towards the machine. Bastion chirped at him. “I am afraid I do not understand the language of Omnics. I don’t mean to be rude, but I need to clean up after my trip.”

“He says, he is glad to meet you as well.” The new voice belonged to the monk, Zenyatta. Both he and Genji had somehow snuck up on them. “Forgive us for intruding. I was curious when Fareeha mentioned that a Bastion unit resided here.” Hanzo met the green glow of Genji’s eyes in a look that his younger brother knew meant to leave him alone.

Of course his little brother was never good at following directions. “Jack and Ana suggest checking out Numbani. Doomfist’s gauntlet is on display at one of the museums. And when we fought Doomfist was not wearing his gauntlet.”

“And you think we can learn Jesse’s whereabouts by meeting up with Akande when he goes to take back his gauntlet?”

“It’s a start. Since we don’t know where any of Talon’s strongholds are.”

Hanzo sighed heavily. “When did they think to head to Numbani?” It was worth a shot.

“The sooner the better. We also came to ask if Bastion wanted to come.”

Zenyatta hovered crosslegged next to Genji. He turned his head to the current conversation to interrupt. “It does not appear as if Bastion wishes to go to the city. He apologizes and hopes that you succeed regardless.”

“There, you have your answer.” Hanzo shouldered his bag and stalked off to the temporary dormitories. They served well for a night or two before moving on. But this base was far from functional and Hanzo preferred a hotel room in a nearby town. “I’ll talk to Morrison later tonight. For now, I would like a few moments of peace.”

The mellow voice of the monk drifted in the stale air of the hanger. “No. Leave him be for now. Everyone must handle their emotions on their own. You will be there when he is ready.”

Hanzo didn’t bother to contain a snort in response. What did his brother know about emotions? Genji had always been unrestrained in all things. It was that behavior that lead to the predicament they were both in. It was unlikely things would change now.

[/\\][\/]

The tension at the table was thicker than molasses. Not only was one of their own missing, it was one of the few capable of lifting everyone’s spirits. The youngest among them, Lucio and Hana, certainly did try to keep the conversation upbeat. Angela knew the older crowd humored them. She also felt responsible. Not that she really could have done much on the field. Her responsibilities had been to heal them. Yet every time someone did not make it back it hurt. Be it her fault or no.

Jack and Ana had relentlessly pursued the information they had obtained regarding Reaper’s activities. Winston shared his own insights. It wasn’t as though they were not trying. Still her mind kept going back to what Jesse must think of them. Wherever he was. She hoped he would trust them. Keep faith that they would come for him. If he ever surrendered to hopelessness then their efforts were for naught.

Angela kept up a brave face. She had to trust the others to do what had to be done.

“So.” Jack Morrison broke the current silence at the dinner table. “Since you are all here, I’d like to take a moment to say the work you did in the field was exceptional.” He had donned his commander voice and spoke in grave acceptance. She had heard this voice many times after failed missions or missions that took heavy losses. “We gained much needed intelligence but we also lost one of our friends. We all are doing everything we can to find Jesse and bring him back. I will be joining you when we go to Numbani. Our goal will be to stop Ogundimu from gaining his gauntlet. Capture him if we can. It is the one place we know he will go. And Talon will likely follow.”

The murmurs around the table were too quiet for Angel to make out. Most seemed to approve of the plan. She glanced around the table and noticed significant silences. Hanzo stared blankly into his cup of tea, seeming to ignore everything around him. And Ana frowned at her dinner plate.

Once it seemed everyone else agreed to the idea, they settled back to the meal. Hanzo surprised them all when he announced. “I will not be joining you.”

“Brother? Why?” Genji was the first to voice his betrayal. The others followed. Angel felt her heart break upon hearing this.

“I believe I will have more success alone.” The former son of a yakuza family finally looked up from his tea. “You heard Akande, Genji. He thinks I would be an asset to Talon.”

“You can’t serious think to join them!” Lucio’s voice was loudest among the protests.

“And you also turn him down. Twice now by the sound of it.” Genji retorted. His convictions gaining steam. “They aren’t going to be so welcoming a third time.”

“I did not say I was going to join them.” Hanzo defended. “But he would be open to discussions. This power play at capturing McCree would make him want to gloat. While the rest of you want to imprison him again, I do not care. All of us are behaving in a criminal capacity right now and so it would be useless to try and turn him into the authorities. It doesn’t matter whether or not you approve. I will be leaving in the morning.”

Everyone at the table erupted with their opinions on the matter. Most believe he shouldn't do this. Hanzo sat still as stone as he took the verbal abuse. His jaw set. There would be no changing his mind. Angela had seen this face on too many soldiers before a mission. She hated that face. Most of those soldiers never returned.

“Hanzo,” she said quietly. “Be careful out there.” Silence returned to the room. Angela swallowed her nerves and continued. “Keep a line open for us. We may need to share information.”

Genji protest. His words spoke to her heart. This was not her choice though. “You’re encouraging him to go? We just got him back, Angela!” 

“You just got him back, Genji. We are thrilled to meet your brother but this is what he has to do. At least I want to support him in this.” The doctor held her ground. She would not be talked down from lending support to those who needed it.

Ana gave her own vote, overriding her own daughter to do so. “Sometimes it is necessary to travel alone. Or do you not remember your own path?” The old sniper arched an eyebrow at the cyborg ninja and Genji sat back down. “Hanzo, we will not be able help you once you leave, but at least we can give you the information and supplies you need. Don’t leave until it is ready.” 

“Thank you. Your offer is much appreciated.” And just like that Hanzo returned to his meal. The others were more reluctant but they too continued to pick at the food. Angela felt certain that they would warm up to the idea soon. And provided that Hanzo did not leave in the middle of the night, they would be there to wish him well.

What surprised the doctor was that Jack had not protested nor given approval. Not that it was his place to approve of anything anymore. It made Angela wonder if the archer had talked to the former Strike Commander before these two announcements. Perhaps the two had more in common than she had initially thought. They both wanted Jesse McCree back at any cost. That sentiment would bind almost anyone into friendship.

Angela caught herself in a half smile as she thought about how the cheerful cowboy could keep conversations going with even the most sullen of men. Despite the turn of events of discovering Reyes was the same as Reaper, Jesse tried to keep a pleasant face among them. He mostly succeeded too. It would be good to have him back again.


	11. Struggle

**[/\\][\/] Chapter Eleven: Struggle**

He woke to white walls, blinding light and a lack of pain. That surprised him. He pulled up the simple white scrub top searching for the bullet wound to his stomach. It wasn’t there. What remained on his skin was a thin circular scar at the entry wound. He ran his fingers over it, disbelief crossing his face. This was not the result of three to four days of sleep deprivation he had been expecting.

Raking his hand through his hair brought out a growl of frustration. A rough calloused palm met smooth scalp. They shaved him! The hair he had already cut short to play his part was gone. If he had thought going undercover as Joel exposed him, this was the ultimate insult. Bald.

No hat. No serape. No armor. No mechanical arm. He might as well be naked. 

This was different. Jesse shook his head violently trying to get his thoughts straight. This was vastly different. What were they planning next? At least he understood the pain and sleep deprivation. Those were well known tactics. Isolation too. That was common. So what came next?

“Hello, Joel.” The mechanical male voice echoed in the bare cell.

“My name’s not— Agh!” Sharp fire ripped through is skull. His hand flew to gripped his head, desperate to stop the mind numbing pain. His left stub tried to join but there was nothing there. Gradually it eased. A minor dull ache. That was new. And dangerous.

“Hello, Joel.” The voice repeated.

He scowled in the direction of the speakers. He would not give in. Though he knew there had to be cameras or a one way window, he couldn’t see it. Carefully he formed the words he had been saying his entire time within the white walls of the Talon prison cells. “My name’s not Jo— Damnit!” He howled in agony. Deep in his skull a flaming hot poker ripped through the gray matter. If he hadn’t already been sitting, he would have collapsed. Instead he curled around his knees. 

There had to be an explanation. Why the searing heat ravaged his nervous system. Slowly concentration returned to him. He focused on his breath. It was the one thing that he was certain of. And he was beginning to understand a new reality. Denying the name Joel triggered it. He winced. Apparently even thought woke the painful nerve shattering sensations. This was low. Forcing an identity on him. 

“My name’s McCree.” The words came without hesitation or torment. He would not loose this. It was who he was. McCree. “Jess— Jesse!” He screamed. No. They could not have linked this agony to his name. Impossible. It had to be impossible.

Curling tightly over his knees he dropped back to the cold tiled floor. The wave of this new torture ebbed, leaving him hollow. Yeah, he was more than a name. But a name told people who you were. Would he be able to tolerate this new torment? He didn’t know. Though the announcer did not repeat the hated phase, every thought sent a fresh twinge through his body. The nerve pain from his severed arm was nothing compared to this acting directly on his brain. Jesse tried to keep his thoughts quiet and under control. If he was to survive this new effort to break him, he had to avoid all thoughts linked to his name Jesse. And to denying Joel.

A man wasn’t meant to live like that.

At least McCree was safe. He could be McCree and no other name. He didn’t know what he’d do if that was taken from him.

Misery stretched the days together. Mealtimes felt sporadic. Nothing in that plain white room to give the gunslinger any sense of true time. He had stopped responding verbally to the speaker’s ‘Hello, Joel.’ Still his mind tried to deny it. Those episodes left him in the fetal position for hours. It was an endless cycle at that point. 

In moments of clarity and freedom of pain, he was able to measure out his cell. One and a half paces across, so about eight feet. Two full paces in length. There was twelve feet. Talon was being generous with space. Enough for him to pace and stretch. His remaining arm got quite the workout in attempt to alleviate the boredom. A commode and sink sat in the corner near the door. A luxury compared to being chained up in a chair having medical staff clean him up. Thankfully there was no mirror. Last thing he wanted was to stare at his bald head and lack of facial hair. It was starting to grow back, but not enough for him to be comfortable. And no bed to speak of though. Sleep deprivation and isolation continued. 

It was getting easier to ignore the loud calls of the hated ‘Hello, Joel.’ If he did not respond, he did not think, and he could get some sleep. Not nearly enough.

One morning things changed yet again. The entire wall opposite the door turned translucent revealing the monitoring station that McCree knew existed. One figure stood regally in the center. A face he knew and would never forget. She barely looked a day older than when he last saw her. Bright red hair, dangerously slim. Suited up in a white lab coat and blue tie over a black shirt. She hadn’t changed. “Moira,” he sneered, walking over to the glass to face her properly.

“Good day, McCree.” Her lilting accent grated on his nerves. “You seem to be adjusting quite well.”

“What did you do?”

The question was vague but Moira seemed to pin down his exact inference. The corners of her thin lips twitched in amusement. “Every thought and memory triggers certain areas in the brain. All I did was connect the areas linked to the name ‘Jesse’ and ‘not Joel’ to the pain receptors. Considering that neurons are simple pathways ignited by chemicals receptors, it wasn’t that hard. But you already figured that out. Didn’t you, Joel.” The geneticist smiled victoriously as she watch the gunslinger clutch his head, trying to refuse the address.

The fire eased and he could face the mad scientist again. Now disrespecting women was not on his list of appropriate behaviors, but there were times when he could care less. “Always thought hiring you was a mistake.”

“The best mistake one could ever make.” Not even a hint of regret. Why had he even expected any. “Now if you cooperated this process would be much less painful.”

“You’ve known me long enough to know that I don’t play well under other people’s rules.” The gunslinger scowled. “This ain’t no different.”

“Well, you cannot claim that I do not attempt to make my experiments less painful to the test subject. This is only a small part of the project. And we can adapt.” Moira nodded, turning to take her leave. “Farewell, McCree. I suspect this is the last time we will meet before you join us.” The wall flickered back to white. Jesse slammed his fist against the barrier and immediately dropped to his knees in excruciating pain as thoughts of his name debilitated him.

Moira and Reyes. Was there anyone from Blackwatch that was not part of Talon? There was no getting out of this in one piece. At least Genji got out.

[\/][/\\]

Out on a sunlit patio, Hanzo stirred the sugar into his coffee as he waited. The cafe in the middle of Paris was nice. More than he usually bothered with these days. But this was a different outing. He wasn’t meeting a client or searching for a target. He had sent a message to Akande and this was the address he received. An outdoor cafe surrounded by tourists and locals going about their business. If it wasn’t for the identity of the two men, this meeting would be insignificant.

Except most strangers glancing at the Asian man in the dark blue business suit would not think twice about who he was. The anonymity within this metropolis felt freeing. Hanzo sipped the coffee and lamented on how the tea here was not suitable.

“I did not think you would come.” The deep thickly accented voice approached from behind. An annoyance, but not wholly unexpected.

“I read the morning paper.” Hanzo pushed the English newspaper towards the towering black man. Akande wore a tailored black suit. This made their meeting appear to be nothing more than an afternoon business meeting. How appropriate. Akande picked up the paper before settling into the metal chair across from the archer. “I am surprised you dare to walk around with the world knowing this.”

The front page spread held the broken museum shipment container and the headline: _Doomfist Regains Gauntlet._ Hanzo’s statement only elicited a gentle chuckle. “It helps to have many of the world governments owe you a favor.”

Frowning, Hanzo returned his attention to the coffee. This was not the conversation he had come to have. “I’m sure.” Though he had not yet heard from the Overwatch Recall effort that had gone to stop Akande, Hanzo knew the battle had been fierce. New scars lined the exposed skin at Doomfist’s neck. If one of the disbanded Overwatch soldiers had died, then Akande would have been the first to gloat about it. And his friends would have contacted Hanzo sooner.

“If it wasn’t for the genetically engineered gorilla, the world would have been a much different place.”

“Some would argue that it was safer with you imprisoned.”

Akande shrugged. “That is a matter of opinion. Perhaps it can be considered safer but it is not stronger.”

“I must disagree. Trauma does not lead to strength.” Hanzo waited for the rebuttal. He had not come for the intellectual argument, but would suffer through it if needed.

“You cannot argue though that during the Omnic Crisis humanity produced the pinnacle of our species. Only through conflict do we evolve. It has been that way since the dawn of civilization. Every war ever fought brought humanity to the brink and then they surpassed what was believed to be their limitations.” The intensity of his beliefs shone in the dark brown eyes. Doomfist leaned over the table as if his words pulled him forward.

“And this is what you believe will happen by provoking another war.”

“It is what always happens.”

“You are just as likely to plunge the world into total destruction. Something barely survived last time.”

“You should come with me, Hanzo. If you see what we are building, then you will understand.” Akande stood. Hanzo hesitated. This was too easy. Going with the primary leader of Talon had its risks. Though it was what Hanzo had initially intended, this setup felt too effortless. “What? I’m not going to knock you unconscious then strap you to a table until you comply.”

“Can you blame me for being cautious? Seeing as how you captured McCree for such a purpose.” Hanzo stood, though undecided about whether to join Akande. This was the man Genji had fought one on one twice now in attempt to subdue. And failed miserably both times. If Hanzo did not follow this Talon leader, then he may never discover the location of the cowboy.

Doomfist laughed freely. “Hanzo, that is an entirely different matter. McCree is a soldier. A skillful weapon that just needs to be pointed at the right target. The reasons I’m asking you to join would be completely lost if we attempted such things with you. Come. Let me show you. Introduce you to a few people. You were once the leader of a great empire, poised to change the world in your own right. You can be again.”

“Very well. But this is not an agreement to join your cause.” Hanzo stood to follow the massive African through the streets. His elongated case for his weapon served only to protect it as no one would ever mistake it for a briefcase.

“But it is a few steps closer than a few years ago when we first met.”

With a noncommittal hum, the archer tried not to recall their meeting in a bar outside Numbani. Hanzo on the trail of his latest target. Akande seeking recruits and allies in a bid for greater power within the shadowy organization of Talon. The man had known too much about Hanzo’s history. And now he was using that interest to gain access into that world of high crime and nation manipulation. All to save one idiotic cowboy. If this wasn’t the definition of stupidity and dangerous, then only Jesse McCree would be able to find a worse situation.

The nondescript black vehicle Hanzo entered, flew across the countryside. Pastures and farmland blurred outside the passenger window. Akande had chosen a luxurious hovercar which was also an armored tank. Hanzo had also expected a driver. Instead the African was behind the wheel coxing greater speed from the craft. And even though the archer could see where they were headed, the streaks of scenery made it near impossible to identify.

They pulled into an airstrip. So wherever Akande was taking him it was not likely to be on the European continent. He was getting the sensation of no return with each step to the bulbous transport. Casually readjusting the case, Hanzo took in the dozen of black clad soldiers with their rifles. There would be at least as many not visible. Right now, Hanzo was certain he could escape a deathtrap. He was not so sure about once he entered the aircraft. 

“It’s a simple business meeting, Hanzo.” Akande had gall to call attention to the former yakuza boss’s irritation.

Hanzo arched an eyebrow at the wealthy businessman and crime syndicate boss. “Simple? I think you failed to take into account your armored operatives and secret location. I knew this was a well funded organization but seeing it from within is quite astonishing.” 

“What else would you expect from someone trying to change the world?”

“Apparently I have not set my sights high enough.”

“That, my friend, is about to change,” Akande clapped him on the back. It took all of Hanzo’s strength to withstand the casual blow. He knew the man was a technologically enhanced body, but how strong was he in reality?

Within the windowless transport, Hanzo had no way of identifying the direction of travel. He doubted any of his GPS locators worked right then, much less recorded any useful information. When he stepped out into the sweltering heat of a never-ending Savanah, Hanzo immediately knew he was in Africa. Outside Numbani. Last time he was here, things were not to his liking. He had avoided it ever since. But of course Akande would set up within his home.

“Bold.” Hanzo eyed the glistening cityscape in the far distance. Nothing but reflections of the overhead sun. “And they do not track you here?”

“This is beyond their reach. Why else to you think the raiders have lasted for so long? This is not your beloved city choked island. Here the animals cause as much of a danger as the men. Come. I can give you a safari another time.” Akande grinned cheerfully in the face of Hanzo’s growing scowl. The wildlife here were most definitely more of a concern than the soldiers. He gripped his bow case tightly and followed the African into a small building. Which he quickly learned was more of a break room and elevator than anything meaningful. A glance revealed that this elevator lead to a six story bunker. It was still capable of more depth.

The elevator doors opened into a modern office setting, minus the windows. Hanzo was surprised at the advanced facility. He tried not to show it. It was enough that he had agreed to come, he did not need Akande to register any level of being impressed at the organization. Hanzo was here for a purpose. And it was not to join Talon. Still he could give off that perception if it helped in locating their missing gunslinger.

“Hanzo, I’d like to introduce you to the executive leaders of the Talon organization.” Akande gestured to four individuals standing around a circular conference table. The one hidden in half shadows was immediately recognizable from the descriptions. A white masked terrorist cloaked in black. Reaper. Formerly known as Gabriel Reyes, Blackwatch Commander. McCree had a high opinion of the man. No doubt that was changing. The other three were strangers to him. Even with his underground connections. Then again, these three were well enough dressed to have public personas beyond this organization.

“Maximillian, purveyor of various betting rings and loan agencies,” Doomfist motioned to the silver Omnic in the tailored black suit and red lights ominously glistening on his forehead. “Sanjay Korpal, Negotiator of the Vishkar Corporation.” The man with plain brown hair and white uniform nodded respectfully. Hanzo immediately disliked the bland appearance, feeling that no one with any link to the underworld deserved to blend in with normal folk. “Dr. Moira O’Deorain, Minister of Genetics at Oasis University.” The thin woman in the lab coat tilted her head slightly as if doing more would crack her dignity. “And I’m not sure if you have met, but no doubt have heard much about him. Gabriel Reyes. Tactician.” The military man did not move. The soulless eyes of the skull mask stared through Hanzo. This was the man to blame for McCree’s capture.

“I have not had the pleasure.” Hanzo returned coolly. Still the betrayer of Overwatch said nothing. It was as if facing a statue.

“Still, we have heard quite a bit about you.” Moira’s reedy voice broke the tension. The archer could not quite tell if she truly was inviting conversation or if she was trying harder than necessary. “Your brother had much to say when we worked together. How is he?” This was something Genji had not bothered to share. Who was this woman? How did she know his younger brother? And why had no one explained her existence if she was so important? Likely for the same reason no one had bothered to share that Gabriel Reyes was alive. 

They were ashamed of their history.

“Sit.” Akande motioned to the table. “There is much to talk about.” This suddenly became the most awkward interview Hanzo had ever experienced. Still he paid careful attention to how the others arranged themselves in relation to Ogundimu. Though the table was circular, Doomfist took what became the head of the table. His sheer force of will and personality dominated the council. To his right sat Reaper then O’Deorain. To his left Maximillian and Sanjay. “As you can see, we have everything we need to rebuild the world. You know as well as we that everyone has a place where they fit best. That was the basis of the Shimada Empire.”

“That does not explain why you continue to seek me out.”

“Because Hanzo Shimada, we have connections to the world’s elite in intellect, architecture, finances, military, and industry. But not the criminal element that pulses through the world.” Akande met Hanzo’s eyes squarely. There was no hidden agenda there. “The raiders of the Savanah and the ex-military are not the ones who can tip the scales. Done right, organized crime such as your family’s specialty combines the most creative, most powerful, and most dedicated. That is a well cultivated force that moves the world.”

The former yakuza boss paused, his thoughts running overtime. Were they serious? Had they no one else who could collect talented criminals and turn them into a well crafted weapon? “I have not been that man in years.”

Doomfist continued confidently. “But you can be that man again. We were not lying when we said we could restore your empire. Yet without the right person in control that empire would crumble. What you once knew is a shadow of its former glory. Not even you could be proud of how they use the name Shimada now.”

“I’m listening.” This was not why he had come, but it was intriguing nonetheless. It wouldn’t hurt to hear them out. Learn more about their plans. Akande was right in one thing. The Shimada Clan was but a ghost of what it should be. It sadden him greatly to see how far it had fallen.

[\/][/\\]

The monitoring room was empty for now. Enough alarms and sensors were in place to alert anyone if their test subject tried anything. Sombra neatly intercepted the connections so nothing would start blaring. A faint call of ‘Hello, Joel,’ filtered through the chamber. She knew the volume inside was loud enough to wake the dead. Right on cue came the yell of pain and subsequent curses. 

“Alright, McCree, let’s see what Moira has on you.” The hacker started to manipulate screens to search into this gunslinger’s past. She had found next to nothing on her own. Then when she told Gabriel about the unusual cowboy hanging out at the bar in Castillo everything changed. But no one bothered to tell her why this oddity was important. Even the creepy witch of a scientist seemed to know him. 

It was left up to Sombra to find out on her own. Like she always did. Even now the files regarding McCree were limited. Basic history in Overwatch’s Blacwatch division. A past involving the Deadlock Rebels biker gang. No details though. Just names thrown together on a list that said he used a revolver. Had a bounty. And was somehow able to collect on other notorious bounties. McCree was definitely a mystery man.

“Now, what would the price be if that archer upstairs wanted to know you were here.” Sombra tapped her lower lip with a long purple acrylic nail. “Seeing as how he was with you in Santa Fe. I bet it would be astronomical.” She grinned at the computer screen showing the man’s fluctuating vital signs. The hacker flicked on the camera to find the gunslinger curled around his knees, clutching his head. While Sombra did not fully understand what Moira had done, she did know that this was only the beginning of an intense reconditioning process. “You had better make it out of this intact, McCree. I have a lot riding on you.”

Chatter beyond the doors announced the return of the scientists and medics watching over their newest test subject. Sombra returned the screens to their original orientations and vanished just as the door opened. They would never know she had been there.


	12. Resistance

**[/\\][\/] Chapter Twelve: Resistance**

Was it too much to ask to have to pain stop? He could be Joel. He had been Joel many times before. He could be again. How much different could it be? And it had to be better than these white walls and repetitious greeting from the faceless speaker. He banged his head against the wall in slow rhythmic thuds. At some point they had drugged him and shaved the growing stubble. They were planning something big. And for some reason it hinged on the identity of Joel. 

Would it be so horrible? Joel was really just an exaggeration. Would it be worth playing along? Would he be able to? That was the true question. He had done a lot of things in his life. This was about to be the most complicated. He didn’t really like complicated. 

“Hello, Joel.”

He grinned. What was the point in denying it any longer? It would just bring about the same painful routine. It wasn’t wrong to find ways to make the agony stop. He had already figured out what worked. 

Well, if they wanted Joel, they could have him. And everything that went along with him. Moira hadn’t been there when they created Joel. And Doomfist had never known him before now anyway. They wouldn’t know what hit them. And he’d still be McCree no matter what.

Glancing over to the wall where Moira had revealed the control room, he wondered who was watching. Every time he heard that announcer, he heard Reyes’s voice. Before the catastrophe that turned the commander into Reaper. He wondered what Reyes thought of this whole ordeal. Why the man had gone through such effort. If it was even his idea. That did get McCree wondering why all of Blackwatch seemed to be part of Talon. He had seen the changes happening before he left. How involved had Reyes been at the time?

Not that it mattered now. McCree would just have to do things the same way he had for the past six years. On his own. Oh, he was sure his friends were trying, but success at this point was unlikely. He was a realist. Hopeful for things to come, but understood that the undesirable had better chances. This was just another in a long line of undesirable events. It seemed that was what his life consisted of no matter how hard he tried to get past it.

The loud speaker interrupted his thoughts again. “Hello, Joel.” Slowly the lopsided smile spread across his face. They could have Joel. It would be fun to see their faces when meeting the alternate identity for the first time. And not the toned down version he gave Overwatch. No, they would meet the ego even Reyes said was too much. The Blackwatch Commander had wanted a soldier. And Reyes got a variation on the time he had mocked the Strike Commander to his perfectly blond haired, blue eyed face. 

_][_

_“McCree, you’re supposed to be a soldier.” “Can that biker attitude and focus.” “How many times do I got to tell you your choice in words will make or break the identity. Stop using slang.” “Dammit McCree, get rid of the damn hat!”_

_Reyes was never happy when he entered the conference room for the daily ‘Joel Buchanan training.’ Not that McCree really cared. The commander had brought him into this military organization because he could shoot. Not because he could act like somebody else. They had reached the end of six weeks and Reyes would not call it quits. Which meant McCree was stuck. He had not been to the shooting range in three weeks. Courtesy of Commander Reyes and his dogged determination to turn McCree into an infiltrator agent._

_Well, all that was about to change. It was time he did this his way._

_He held the electric razor in his hands trying to decide on the guard length. He was going to hate this part. He had already shaved his goatee and sideburns to nothing. But for this to work he had to go further. No half assed effort. As close to a military buzz cut as he could tolerate it would have to be. It was just hair. It grew back._

_Staring at the the reflection in the mirror, McCree hated what he saw. It was a blue eyed stranger staring back at him. And he was about to become more of a stranger as he changed into the crisp blue Overwatch Cadet uniform. Stealing that from the the supplies department had taken quite a bit of effort. He had even fashioned himself a name badge like all the other recruits. He would have forged the roster, but that took computer skills he didn’t have._

_Working his jaw loose, McCree focused on the relaxed facial expressions he would need. Joel Buchanan was about to meet the world._

_The walk down to the conference room was interesting. People greeted him pleasantly. He smiled in return and addressed them by title. No one thought twice about his presence. He was one of them. It was a strange feeling. And a bit worrisome that they did not question the appearance of a stranger in their mix. But then with so many cadets wandering around strangers were a constant. It was dangerous to trust a uniform and name badge._

_All together his reception while wearing the Overwatch blue and white was vastly different from his normal encounters. Dressed for Blackwatch he had been frowned at, ignored, even once asked what he was doing in the public hallways. The reputation of Reyes’s organization did not inspire the people it protected._

_It still wasn’t enough to make McCree want to stay in this stiff and pristine uniform._

_“Reporting for duty as ordered, sir,” he announced as he opened the sliding white door to the conference room. His voice light and confident. He was supposed to be a Boy Scout after all._

_The Blackwatch Commander turned away from the report tablet in his hands and creased his brow. “Who…” The pause made this whole getup worthwhile. There was none of his thick Southern drawl. He kept his voice crisp with just enough of a light Midwestern accent to indicate he had grown up in America. His posture was perfect. Shoulders back, chest out. Any soldier would be proud. And he a saluted. The one thing McCree had never done to any of the officers. It was an excellent one if he had to say so himself._

_“Cadet Buchanan, sir. I apologize for being tardy.”_

_The black eyes grew wide in surprise at that statement. He had to suppress the urge to grin and gloat at being able to fool the commander if only for a short time. He was pleased that this alternate identity had succeeded. Gabriel Reyes frowned as he studied the clean cut young man in the doorway. Clearly wondering how this happened after all the failures before. Well before McCree had no interest. This was in effort to get back on the gun range. Desperate measures._

_The dark soldier cocked his head towards the door. “The true test will be in the field. Let’s get you with the other cadets. They should be in basic training right now.” Buchanan stepped aside to allow the Blackwatch Commander to lead the way. He kept pace with Reyes, maintaining his new personality was already starting to wear on him and it had barely been thirty minutes. How was he supposed to last a day? It wouldn’t be a test otherwise._

_He had to remind himself that these people did not know McCree. They would only know Buchanan. It wouldn’t take much. Reyes did the introductions to the instructor. Claimed that Buchanan had been one of his own picks but now he thought the young man would do better within the main group. When the order to get changed and join the cadets on the field came, McCree knew he had missed something important. The long sleeves of the uniform covered his tattoo. Once that got out, everyone would know. Asking for concealer would have given his game away too early. Too late now. He would have to improvise._

_Thankfully the locker room was empty and there were plenty of long sleeved sweats available. No one said a word when he emerged. This was the mountains of Switzerland after all. Then it was a day of drills and playing nice with the other cadets. The men and women McCree normally would have antagonized and laughed at. Well now he was one of them._

_They complained about the trainer. Speculated about future battles that would need them. Chuckled at each other’s jokes in between the rigorous workout. Reminisced about home while reloading rifles. The most surprising thing he encountered was the trainer coming up to him and saying, “Good job out there, Buchanan. I can see why Commander Reyes wanted you on board. Glad you choose to join us.” Positive feedback._

_And then he was face to face with Reyes and Morrison. Why had the Strike Commander come down to visit a simple training session? “Cadet Buchanan?”_

_“Sir?” He stood at attention, still sweaty from laps and pushups. His salute was not as sharp as it was to Reyes first thing that morning. He hated to admit it, but he was tired. Still he kept up his alter ego. He wasn’t going to slip now._

_“Commander Reyes told me quite a bit about you.” The tall blond leader of Overwatch stood relaxed as he surveyed the training grounds. Beside him the dark shadow in black armor folded his arms and waited. Evaluating. “And after seeing you for myself, I can agree that you have great potential.”_

_“Thank you, sir.” The surprise in his voice was real. Morrison hated McCree. But apparently he approved of Buchanan. For a moment it was a struggle to keep the facade going. “It is an honor to be here, sir. It’s a far cry from the farms in Idaho.” Just enough respect to stay off the radar. Just enough conversation bait to distract the Strike Commander. Jack Morrison knew McCree. Any slip now and he’d be busted. He was going to kill Reyes later._

_“Idaho, huh? It’s good to have some small town representation here.”_

_“Yes, sir. It is a very different place. Nothing at all like back home.” Casual conversation with a superior. Not exactly what he had in mind. “Have you ever been back, sir?”_

_“A few times.” The look of contemplation on the Commander’s face caught McCree of guard. “It is good to meet you, cadet. Keep up the good work. We could always use a marksman such as yourself on the team.” The Strike Commander nodded before turning away. Reyes locked eyes with him then joined the blond soldier in leaving the area. Apparently the man approved. But if Morrison was only humoring him, then McCree would just have to strangle both of them._

_][_

Scratching the back of his woefully bald head, McCree decided on his next course of action. He wasn’t going to like it. But he didn’t like many of choices left to him. But this one thing was in his control. He was a gunslinger who made his own way. And there was only one way out of those doors.

“Hello, Joel.”

Tilting his head to the speaker, he grinned. “Right, here. Now, what do you want.” He knew what was about to happen, but he was going to do it his way.

Reyes should have known that having the gall to mock the top brass was nothing short of arrogant. Back then he had been a nineteen year old kid with nothing to loose. Now he was in a desperate situation with only one way out alive. It was the same concept. No more of the mild manner, small town soldier they had come to know.

He would give them Joel. Give them the man Joel was meant to be.

[\/][/\\]

Sunset on the cliffs of Watchpoint Gibraltar had a splendor to it that Hanzo just couldn’t see. He knelt at the edge. Below the stretch of golden flecked ocean as the sun dipped into its watery reflection. Wisps of violet clouds tracked across the vibrant sky. There was too much wrong in the world for him to acknowledge the wonders of nature.

“It’s beautiful here,” the mechanical voice of his brother approached from behind. Hanzo closed his eyes. He didn’t want to deal with Genji right then. “I could never appreciate it before.” The cyborg settled beside him. And thankfully did not attempt to continue a conversation when he saw Hanzo’s tired glare. They said nothing for the entire time it took the sun to dip below the horizon. “You still blame yourself for what happened.”

“How could I not? I left him to get to you.”

“You can’t be blaming me.”

“No, Genji. I am not blaming you.” Hanzo pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m telling you that it was a difficult decision. Forced because of the gunfire. There was little to be done. But I don’t have to like it.”

“I never did thank you for coming.”

“Genji.”

“No, brother. I am being serious. Your arrival helped turn the tide in the fight.”

“Did you seriously loose to the same man twice?”

“Hey, he is strong.”

“He’s a jerk.”

“So.. Hanzo. How do you know him?”

Hanzo weighed the benefits on keeping silent or explaining the brief history. Perhaps they would understand his dilemma. “We met in Numbani. When I was a mercenary. I had a target. Akande had another agenda. He offered to rebuild the Clan. In exchange for working with him. I turned him down. After that all I could think of was how we were meant to run the family together. Together we could have built an empire.”

“That was your dream. Not mine.”

“I realize that.” Hanzo sighed. “I should not have expected you to follow in father’s footsteps. I have already accepted my fate. I am willing to do what I must to make things right.”

“What would our father think of what we have become, brother.”

“It’s hard to say who he would be more disappointed by.” Hanzo glanced over at his metallic brother. The faceless mask and green glowing eye shield was still a complete stranger. Yet here he was, alive despite everything Hanzo had done. It was a testament of modern technology and medicine. In a way it was amazing.

Genji removed that strange eye piece. Once again Hanzo was able to look into the weary eyes of his brother. A man who had seen more about death than anyone ever should. Instead of protecting his younger brother, he had destroyed him. Still Genji was able to continue on. Somehow they both managed in this half life they had.

“I’d like to think he would not be disappointed.” Genji sighed. “I’d like to think he would proud that we survived.” His brother was forever thinking the best from their father. Seeing a side that Hanzo could no longer remember.

“He asked me to join Talon again.” Hanzo blurted out regarding his encounter with Akande. He was more prepared to talk about the African than his own father.

“When..? Hanzo? What did you do?”

“Exactly what I said I was going to do.” Hanzo turned to study his brother. “I went to talk to Akande. He took me to an underground base outside of Numbani. And there I met those who seem to be in charge. Met Reaper. And someone named Moira O’Deorain.” He brought those names up purposefully as he knew Genji was familiar with both of them.

The cyborg ninja leaned back to watch the sky. His eyes betrayed the wince of pain old memories brought to the surface. “Oh. Not the best representation. Better you think of Lena, Angela, and Winston when you think of Overwatch.”

“I can’t believe you worked with people like that.” Hanzo turned back to the ocean as a large freighter blared its horn. “The worst part was that I considered joining them.”

“Why?”

“To find Jesse. They have him. And I would join them if it meant finding him before something worse happens.”

“Don’t even think about it.”

“So I’m supposed to sit here and wait for Jack and Ana to figure out what to do next? Genji, we know who took him. It doesn’t matter why. We only need to know where so we can get him out.”

“If you get involved with them, they will never let you go.”

Hanzo stonily glared at the freighter. “If I don’t, then we are abandoning him.”

“No. We are not.” Genji’s frown was audible. “If you join them, then we would be loosing you.” The cyborg replaced his visor. His brother was understandably upset. Hanzo had nothing to said to that. The ninja stood, paused as if waiting for a response. Then the soft padding of the carbon fiber feet on stone left the area.

When Hanzo had left Akande, he had left with a promise to consider the offer. And he was seriously considering it. Of all of the locator beacons he had left behind; the microphones he had pinned to various pieces of the decorations; nothing got out of that base. Of course if those were found, his chances of joining Talon and finding McCree plummeted.

A new figure settled down next to him. He did not bother to open his eyes as he scowled. “I am not in the mood to talk.”

“But perhaps you will consent to listen?” Zenyatta’s mellow computerized voice broke Hanzo’s concentration and he turned to the Omnic. That was as much as he would offer the monk. “I have not yet met this man you are searching for, but he seems rather important to everyone. From my understanding you have only been working with him for a short time and yet you are putting forth a great deal of effort to find him. It is rather commendable. I am glad to be part of the effort. If I may offer an observation, with all of the resources currently in place to search for Jesse McCree, it would be devastating to moral to have another become lost?”

“It is not becoming lost to infiltrate the enemy base.”

“The intention is not what will cause concern. It is the perception. That alone can end a campaign.”

“And you believe that the others will conclude that I joined Talon for any other reason than to find McCree.” Hanzo scowled at the Ominc Monk. “I have already denied their offers before. The only reason I would ever set for in their base again was to bring Jesse out. But that requires us to locate him first. The others are no closer to finding him. And if this chance is all we have, I would be a fool to ignore it.”

“Perhaps. It is difficult to determine the best course of action when all involved have different opinions. As painful as it is to listen, knowing all sides in complete honesty will lead us down the right path.” Zenyatta tilted his silver head slightly before rising and leaving the cliffs. Hanzo was left with only his thoughts. If he were to be sincere with himself the archer had no desire to bend to Talon’s will. Though he longed for what he knew as leader of the Shimada Clan, he did not want to be beholden to anyone. 

There had to be another way. Another possibility in finding the gunslinger. Another chance to restore his family’s honor. But why couldn’t he find one?

[\/][/\\]

“Here, we are. Watchpoint Gibraltar. I did say I would get you there.” Lynx Seventeen motioned to the rundown gated entrance to the old Overwatch outpost. Zarya frowned at her travel companion. The Omnic chattered too much. “The messages I intercepted from this place indicated that they are trying to restore the facility’s functionality. Though in my opinion, they will need a lot more work.”

“No one asked you.” The Lieutenant from the Russian Defense Force brusquely pushed past the slender robot in the tacky green jumpsuit. The gate did show some wear, a few fresh vehicle tracks in the dust. Other than that no sign of occupation.

“You were the one that asked me to bring you here.”

“Chairman Volskaya instructed me to find these people and to get them to help stop Talon and Sombra from interfering with her company. You chose to come on your own.” Zarya walked up to the entrance and tried to find a way to contact those inside. Or to open the gates.

“Greetings,” a gentle feminine voice answered the soldier’s prodding. “It is not polite to attempt to break into someone’s security systems.” The voice did not sound human. The lilt to to voice was more robotic. Zarya turned to her traveling companion and noticed their antenna drooped low beside their head. Apparently Lynx had been trying to get in through other means. The Omnic ran their metal hand across the silver head in embarrassment. But not apologetic.

“I’m Aleksandra Zaryanova and this is Lynx Seventeen. Chairman Volskaya attempted to contact the former Overwatch agents but never got a reply.” Zayra answered the intercom resolutely. If they were not polite enough to answer Volskaya’s request then she had a right to demand an answer in person.

“One moment.” The female voice delayed their entrance into the facility. Zarya sighed and waited impatiently.

The moment lasted an eternity for the soldier. “Uh, hi there.” The deep voice answered the silence with uncertainty. “My name’s Winston. I… uh.. initiated the recall… Uh… I guess we need to talk. Things have been rather hectic lately. Come in. Lena will meet you to show you in.”

“Thank you.” As the soldier said this the gate opened. About three steps past the perimeter a blue streak sped towards them. It solidified into a petite young woman. Zarya had thought she had seen everything.

“Hi! So you must be Aleksandra and Lynx. Nice to meet you! I’m Lena. When Winston said others had responded to his call I did not expect anyone to actually show up.”

“Call me Zarya. We’re just trying to get an answer as to Chairman Volskaya request for help against Sombra.”

“Uh, about that. Winston’s the one you want to talk to. Come on.” Lena waved at them to follow. At least they had made contact. Answers were sure to come. Though Zarya wondered what kind of trouble these people were having that interfered with a simple request for help. If solving it would speed their response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In respect to pronouns of choice I will use they/them/their for Lynx Seventeen. As a writer using these for a single person is threatening my sanity. I was trained to use these for referencing multiple people. So if you see that I have used he/him/his for Lynx, it is not an intentional misuse of pronouns. Please just politely point it out so I can correct it. With the caveat of a character not familiar with or respectful to Lynx's pronouns. (I do foresee that potential and will review any case based upon context.) Thank you.


	13. Surrender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you just have to accept the circumstances.

**[\/][/\\] Chapter Thirteen: Surrender**

“So let me get this straight,” Zarya sat at a large conference table headed by a massive talking gorilla, surrounded by mismatched collection of retired soldiers, children and robots. Twelve in total. This was supposed to be Overwatch. “You’re the only ones who answered the Recall.”

“Um… yes.” The gorilla, Winston, answered. “For now. This is it.” Everyone in the room looked around at each other awkwardly. There was something else the Russian was missing. The soldier was at a loss for what to say next. When Volskaya told her to find the Overwatch Recall effort, Zarya had expected more. Even if the group was illegal. Considering the legends produced from the Golden Age, there had to be more.

Zarya protested. “What about the others? The rest of Overwatch? It used to be a massive organization spread across the globe.”

“I think what they are trying to say,” Lynx offered, “is that the call for assistance is still new. Not everyone who wants to answer has either received the message or had the means to travel here. Isn’t that right?” The Omnic beside her turned their gaze to those assembled, primarily the giant gorilla. It amazed Zarya that the genetic experiment was now in charge. But that really wasn’t her call.

“To be honest,” Winston started again. He must have become the de facto leader after initiating the Recall. It felt like he was waiting for someone else to step up. “I’m not sure how many more will answer. Most have accepted retirement or private sector jobs. But the problem is the terrorist regarded as Reaper has been targeting the former agents of Overwatch. Many have chosen to seek safety for their families. If they ultimately choose to join us, it will be after they do not fear that their families will be killed because of them.”

“I see.” Zarya frowned. She pushed her muscular frame away from the table and too small chair. “I see I have wasted my time.” These people could not help. They were fools for even trying.

“Now hang on there!” The petite girl who had met her at the gate blocked her path. “Just because this is not what you expected, doesn’t mean we aren’t capable of helping. We’ve already been tracking that same group you describe. Reaper, Widowmaker, Sombra. At least we know how to find them.”

“Well, she has you there,” Lynx’s mildly dry computerized voice scratched her ears.

“No one asked you.” She retorted. “Not even you were able to find Sombra.”

“Ouch. I know that was not said in jest, but that is probably the most creative insult I have heard from you.” If Omnics had facial features, she bet Lynx would be grinning. Their antenna were perked upright and their head slightly tilted. It was obnoxious. 

The gorilla shifted his massive bulk and approached her. “Lena is right. Though we are few in number, we do have greater knowledge on these enemies than one person alone. We would appreciate your help.”

Zarya frowned at the crowd awaiting her decision. They were after the same group of terrorists. And if they had more success then what would be the harm in joining them. They were an illegal organizations and would keep the secrets of Volksaya. “Very well. We can collaborate for as long as we need. But I will need to be updated on what you are currently working on.” The looks of conflicted interest puzzled the Russian soldier. “What?”

“Who is this McCree?” Lynx asked, studying their holographic screen with the image of a man in a cowboy hat.

“Lynx Seventeen,” the smooth voice of Athena sounded in the speakers around them. “I believe I asked you not to invade databases without permission.” The hologram fizzled out and Lyxn’s antenna drooped. Aleksandra rubbed at the building headache between her eyes. Did the hacker have to cause so much trouble.

From the background the old soldier in the red visor strode forward. He behaved every inch as a commander. And the Lieutenant had seen her fair share. She also had a feeling she would not be getting along well with him from the moment he started to speak. It was authoritative and concise, but lacked conviction. Without something to believe in, soldiers were not worth their training. “Jesse McCree was one of our own. He was captured by the Talon organization, which now includes the terrorist Doomfist and the geneticist Moira O’Deorain who also is a Minister in Oasis. Hanzo, who was the other council member you met?”

“Sanjay Korpal. An architect for the Vishkar Corporation. It appears Talon has quite the collection of allies.” Zarya watched the Asian man scowl as he reported this information. She tried to contain her surprise at their ability to have one of their own infiltrate the terroristic organization. Perhaps this mismatched group was not as pathetic as they appeared.

The old soldier continued. “The problem is we do not know the reasons for his capture, nor where he is being held. If McCree returns alive, there is a very strong chance that he will not be the man we once knew. Talon has precedent for brainwashing their enemies into working for them.”

“Who did they do this to before?” Zayra was curious. This was beyond anything she had expected. Again the awkward silence. She looked to Lynx as if they had the answers. The Omnic shrugged. So no help there.

When the old woman with the eyepatch approached the table and set her teacup down, Zarya creased her eyebrows. Soldiers came in all shapes and this one had seen death first hand. “We might as well tell her, Jack.” The man in the red visor crossed his arms causing the woman to sigh. “Amelie Lacroix was once the wife of one an old friend and colleague. Talon kidnapped her years ago, returned her to us, and she murdered her own husband before disappearing again. Years later we learned the truth. She had become the infamous sniper Widowmaker. They did this to a civilian. Imagine what we could encounter if they succeed with a soldier.”

“McCree was a soldier?” Zarya thought back to the cowboy in the picture. He looked more like a rodeo clown than a former soldier.

“In a very broad sense,” Jack reluctantly answered. “He never was one for following orders. Always went off on his own. But he is a highly skilled sharpshooter.” The rest of the room managed to ooze guilt. 

“And what are you doing to find him now?”

“Mostly research and surveillance.” Lucio Correia dos Santos, the musician had even made his name known in Russia. Why he was part of the recall baffled the Lieutenant. “When Talon goes underground, they really go underground. Hanzo found a base outside of Numbani but beyond that, we can’t find it. And there’s no telling how many other places like that they could have.”

“I am not great with research…” Aleksandra sighed. That’s what caused all her problems in the first place. And resulted in her needing help from an Omnic.

The DJ grinned. “That’s alright. I’m sure Lynx here is awesome. Just stay on Athena’s good side and we’ll be fine.”

“Eh… yes… I think I can manage that…” Lynx gave a shrug. Their head was cocked to the side as if watching Athena’s console.

Lena popped up next to Zarya and Lynx, startling them both. “If you’re going to be staying for a little while, there is someone you should probably meet. Hey, Torbjorn, why don’t you take them down to meet him?”

The Russian soldier frowned at the group. “I thought this was everyone."

“No. There is one more.” The gruff bearded man pushed himself away from the conference table. “Come on, might as well get this over with. Leave your weapons here. Keep your hands to yourselves. And if you’re stupid enough to try anything, I’m not bailing you out.”

Soldier and hacker followed the engineer through the rusted halls of the old Watchpoint. It needed a fair bit of work before it became truly functional again. It probably would never reach the former glory. They reached the warehouse area and Zarya heard chirping birds. Among the crates sat a boxy metal figure. One Zarya thought had been eradicated years ago. “A Bastion!” She reached for her weapon. She had left the cannon in the conference room. What were these people thinking trusting this murderous machine in their midsts.

The bastion unit chirped and whistled. As if mocking her. Beside her Lynx laughed. “I know right! She is very observant, but don’t worry. It’s one of her assets and very helpful. Along with her tenacity.” The whirls and beeps continued. 

Zarya scowled at the dwarfish man. “Why do you have a bastion here!” She demanded.

“He’s different. Shows more interest in that bird of his than his weapons. If an Omnic made for war can change, then there is hope for the others. Just got to learn how it happened. Believe me, I’m no more fond of them than you.” Torbjorn tugged at his beard somehow looked both aggrieved and intrigued. 

“Then you should have destroyed it.” Zarya stalked back the way she came. The questioning tone of the chirps annoyed her to the point she turned around to glare at the Omnic. “It will be best if we never have to work together.” 

As she walked away, she heard Lynx say, “Don’t worry about her. She does have a soft spot she hasn’t figured out yet. But I never thought I’d get to meet a real Bastion. I’ve only read about them in the histories. You all were phenomenal fighters.”

“Try not to start a rebellion, alright!” Torbjorn might have questionable judgement in bringing the Bastion to this Watchpoint, but at least his mind was in the right place when it came to leaving Omnics alone together. Zarya wondered if she had made the right choice in coming here. This group of old soldiers and young rebels didn’t seem to have a coordinated plan or goal. It felt like such a mistake, but what other choice did she have. No one else had the information or resources needed to find this Sombra and her allies.

[/\\][\/]

“Leaving so soon?”

Hanzo glanced up from the duffle bag where he was placing neatly folded shirts. The old sniper leaned in the doorway of the bunk room watching him through the one piercing eye of hers. “I grow tired of waiting. You have not yet produced results and we are no closer to finding McCree.”

“Lucio, Lynx and Athena have gained quite a bit of information on Talon’s activities.” Ana arched her brow in defense. “Just because it does not pertain to Jesse does not mean it isn’t important.”

“How can you be content to sit by and do nothing.”

“Hanzo,” the sniper’s voice was sharp and her gaze turned hard. “My job has always been to wait and watch. To take the moment when it finally presents itself and to suffer when that moment comes too late. As an assassin I’m sure you have never had to protect from afar.”

The archer stopped his packing and starred aimlessly at the bag. He was not used to looking to others for answers. The last time he did that it had not ended well. And led to his and Genji’s current state. Hanzo had to remind himself that these were the people who had helped Genji recover. And the ones his little brother trusted. They would not leave someone behind if it could be avoided. He had to believe that this extended to the wayward gunslinger as well.

“What would you have me do?”

“Walk with me.” When Hanzo hesitated at her rather demanding invitation, Ana chuckled. “It is a large base and most of them have gone to the city to get supplies. No one will see you wasting time with this old woman.” Hanzo abandoned his packing and joined the former Overwatch Captain in the winding halls of the Watchpoint. “We’re all afraid that when we next encounter Talon or Jesse that we will not be able to do what must be done. That is nothing new.”

“All the more reason to find him before that can happen,” he snapped. This conversation was going nowhere. None of this was new information. Or even helpful.

“That’s the problem, isn’t it.” Ana shrugged. She did not seem perturbed at this endless cycle of waiting. “Even with the vague directions you gave us, there is no way our limited resources could find a basecamp in the middle of the savannah. Don’t get me wrong, we are trying. But short of sending a team in to search at ground level… Their camouflage remains intact.” Hanzo felt a growl of irritation building in his throat. Nothing could be worse than this. Ana continued despite his interruption. “To make matters even more complicated, this is the type of work Gabriel used to excel at. Before now, I don’t think I realized how reliant we were on Blackwatch. So we’re going up against a man who knows us well.”

“You are making the case for a lost cause.” Hanzo bit out.

“I know it seems like it.”

“I still don’t understand why this Gabriel Reyes has turned against you if you were such close friends.”

“We are still asking ourselves that question. I suppose given how Overwatch was falling apart and his portion of the organization taking the brunt of the restrictions, I could see why he held this resentment. Gabriel believed in the mission. So much so that he ignored any regulations that might stop him.”

“That doesn’t excuse him”

Ana sighed. “No. It doesn’t.”

“Then why do you defend him?”

“I’m not. At least I’m trying not to.” The sniper frowned. They had made their way to the secondary command. “You have to understand. He was our friend. I understand how difficult it is to fight against those you love. I don’t even want to think about facing Jesse after this. I still think of him as my family. Just as much as Fareeha is.”

Hanzo continued walking until he reached the edge of the cliff behind the construction built for rockets. He had enough of Overwatch. Their whole make up and directives seemed convoluted at best. Self destructive at worst. He was amazed that they managed to get anything done. Or that he had once been fearful of them toppling the Shimada Empire. In the end it had been their own follies that brought them down. Now he had somehow been brought into their collective and was expected to play by their rules. 

Well he had tried that. And that lost them Jesse McCree. 

But venturing out on his own had not succeeded either. Nor did he really think joining Talon would bring about the results he wanted. He would just be aiding the enemy. He knew he would not see Jesse until after Talon finished with whatever they had planned. Scowling, the archer turned to face Ana Amari directly. “Tell me what you know of Amelie Lacroix.”

The former Overwatch Captain actually looked taken aback. “I thought you would have researched the incident yourself.”

“I have. There is surprisingly little. Which is why I am now asking you. If you know what happened to her, then perhaps we can prepare for what will happen to Jesse.” Hanzo hated this plan, but if they couldn’t get McCree out of Talon before they changed him. Then they needed to be ready for what could come against them. It wasn’t like they were waiting blindly for Talon’s next move. They already knew it. Just too afraid to admit it.

“Amelie Lacroix was once a good friend of ours. She married a colleague, Gerard Lacroix. Spoke of settling down to have children as her days as a primary dancer were ending. She still loved ballet and spoke of either starting a school herself or becoming a director of her own troupe. I wanted the best for her.” Ana settled her old bones on the stones. The story must have weighed heavily on her shoulders. Hanzo joined her but did not interrupt the pause. Reliving past painful memories required such lengthy pauses. To sort through one’s own feelings and how they might have changed over the years. 

Heaving a great sigh, Ana continued. “I can’t tell you much about how they managed to brainwash her. I’m sure you are more familiar with any techniques. But they succeeded. She appeared to be her normal self when found after the kidnapping. Then one morning Gerard was dead and Amelie was gone. When I saw her again she was changed. No love remained. She was a sniper. A very good one. And only one goal. Assassinations for Talon. They took a beautiful civilian with normal hopes and dreams and turned her into that cold hearted sniper. You have to admit, their technology must be vast.”

“I see.” It was all information Hanzo had already learned. But more importantly was the effect it had on the old soldier. He could hear the devastation in Ana’s voice as well as the professional admiration. “But there are also ways of undoing brainwashing.”

“Then you know far more than I.”

“Only in theory. And as you all said before, Jesse has been trained to resist such tactics. I do not think it will be so easy for them to twist his will to their own. We might still have time.” Hope. That was one thing these people seemed to thrive on. Hope that they could make a difference. Hanzo had accepted the grim reality of loosing McCree, but that didn’t stop him from trying to fix it. He was becoming as delusional as the rest of them. He just hoped Jesse hadn’t given up on them.

[/\\]\/]

The lab was sterile white. It brought back unpleasant memories as Gabriel entered the experimentation room. He wasn’t here to relive the past. He was here to bid farewell to the young man that insisted on doing things his own way. But as predicted, Jesse McCree had seen the futility in denying their attempts. He had started answering to Joel. Started to be more compliant. Reyes watched it all skeptically.

Now the man was strapped to the table, tilted back just enough to where looking at the scientists would be difficult. Arms spread wide to give the workers space. Bald head covered in probes, electrodes and wires. Needles already jabbed into his arms, waiting for Moira and her team to make the final calculations. Dressed only in crisp white boxers, more probes and monitoring devices were attached to McCree’s chest and legs. The man would be waking up from the sedation soon and be righteously angry. 

That was probably why Gabriel was here. To see gunslinger be Jesse McCree one last time. Not even he knew what would come out of this room once Moira was finished. 

A twitch of the hands were the first sign of McCree struggling though the haze of the tranquilizers. Reaper stood tall and waited. The movements became more violent until the cowboy realized he wasn’t going anywhere. He growled, frustrated, strained one last time against the leather straps holding his arms, chest, legs and neck down. Of all the things going through the gunslinger’s mind right then, knowledge that escape was impossible had to be at the top.

“Reyes.” McCree snarled. Reaper remained impassive. White mask betrayed nothing. Not even the growing frown on Gabriel Reyes’s face. “Why are you here? Why are you doing this?”

“I think that’s less important than the fact that it will be done. I told you at the start of this. You would join us. The only difference would be the amount of reconditioning. Your little games, pretending to be Joel, playing along with their schemes… It might have fooled those who don’t know you. But you can’t fool me.” Reaper leaned forward, giving his next statement more impact. “I taught you everything you know.”

“Not everything.” The gunslinger groused, still pulling at his bindings. Still as obstinate as ever. There were somethings about McCree that would never change. His sense of playing fair, his obnoxious choice in clothing, lastly his arrogance and independence. Reyes had been trying to wrangle the cowboy since they first met. His successes varied. This was going to be a challenge.

“You’re not going to last much longer.”

“Is that so?”

Reyes stepped closer. There was fear behind McCree’s defiance. The boy knew. Just like every time Reyes had cornered him, Jesse knew the outcome waiting for him even as he protested and raised hell. He would accept the inevitable. Eventually. They would just have to burn the spirit out of him. Repurpose the gunslinger yet again. It would take more than Akande’s prosthetics. More than Moira’s chemicals. 

Reaper wondered how long it would take this time. Going from Deadlock Rebel to Blackwatch Operative had been simple. About a year’s worth of reeducation and training. Promises of better weapons and exciting missions. The boy transitioned fast. But they didn’t have the benefit of combining the education with memory manipulation back then. It had after all been a legal organization. Everything had to be done by choice and freewill. Even if those choices weren’t always the best or most accurate. 

One way or another McCree’s aim would work for him again. Putting together a team of the best was what Reyes had always done. He had succeeded in the Omnic Crisis with his picks. He had obtained a semblance of peace before Overwatch and the world decided his actions were unbecoming of their sensitive ideals. Now he needed to do it again. This time he wasn’t going to let the naysayers get in his way.

“Goodbye, Jesse.”

Reaper turned his back on the gunslinger’s screams. One thing Akande had right was that men became stronger through conflict. Jesse was proof of that. But they also could break. Jesse had done that too. Reaper didn’t know what would come out of this room when it was all over. Part of him didn’t care so long as Jesse could still shoot. But there was still that small part that cared if the boy lived or died. The part that wanted the kid from Deadlock to have a better chance at life than the cards that had been dealt to him. Even as Reyes continued to stack the deck in his own favor.


	14. Changed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long anticipated reveal of Talon McCree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do apologize for the delay and long wait between chapters. Work/life balance has been rather ridiculous lately. And I probably spent more time on the Blizzard World map than necessary. But here you go. Now the fun can really start.

**[\/][/\\] Chapter Fourteen: Changed**

In the distance a black cowboy hat taunted them.The cyborg was perched in a window ledge in some city center of northern Russia. Snowfall covered the world in a light dusting. Just enough to make fighting complicated. The location seemed secondary to the task. Genji knew he had all the information stored away somewhere, but it seemed less important than the fact that this was the seventh time Lynx Seventeen had found a Talon raid on unknown technology. And the fourth cowboy hat made an appearance. The last three had been decoys. 

It was nerve-racking to think their friend was on the other side firing shots.

“There are seven of them entering the warehouse,” Genji reported. His enhanced visor gave him details that the other’s would need to be closer to see. “One of them is wearing a cowboy hat.” They needed to know. The potential for encountering McCree increased the more often they sought Talon’s heists. 

“Well, that puts a damper on things.” Lena called from overhead on the rooftop. The two of them had been the first on the scene. The reports Lynx had gotten a hold of had not explained why the Talon operatives wanted to go to Yakutsk. The Russian city had not yet fallen to the grips of ice and snow for the winter. According to their newest member, this place had become a haven for anti-Omnic research as the majority of robots experienced malfunctions in the extreme cold. 

Lieutenant Zaryanova occupied the door below him. Needless to say their teamwork on this trip was less than stellar. Genji had dealt with enough Omnic haters to recognize the blind bias in this woman. So far it hadn’t gotten in the way their reconnaissance. The cyborg continued, “He does match McCree’s height and build, but without getting closer we can’t be certain. This is the fourth time we have encountered a Talon operative in a cowboy hat. By the time McCree joins them, we’ll be so used to these decoys that we might kill him by mistake.”

“That’s just the problem, isn’t it. We don’t know if this isn’t really Jesse. I’m more worried about us being so overly cautious that he will kill one of us when we hesitate,” The slipstream pilot made a good point. Talon was desensitizing them for the inevitable meeting with their friend.

“That is the risk you must take.” The Russian soldier finally spoke up from her position in the doorway below. Her eyes were glued to distant warehouse. “But our task now is to rid ourselves of those intruders. We cannot allow the technology they are after fall into their hands.”

“Very well.” Genji dropped lightly onto the snow-covered pavement. “Is there another entrance?”

Zarya frowned slightly at having to address the cyborg. Genji merely shrugged it off. They had other more important things to concern themselves with. “There is an employee door between the two warehouses.”

“On it!” Lena disappeared in a blue blur. 

“I’ll take the roof.” Genji did not leave room for discussion, knowing he would only receive an argument. He darted across the grounds for the designated warehouse. The soldier was left to follow in behind the group of Talon operatives. The cyborg only had one goal now. To find the man in the cowboy hat and discover if he was McCree or not. The other two could handle the rest. 

He was skirting along the edge of the skylight when his communications started to fritz. The constant crackling was enough to make the ninja pull to the side and try to figure out what was wrong. If someone was attempting to contact him it could change the path of their mission. The cybernetics ran its diagnostics trying to clear up the channel. Genji had never had this type of problem before.

“Hello? Genji? Are you reading me?” The slight mechanical buzz of their newest Omnic member filled the cyborg’s headset. The ninja scowled beneath his visor. Lynx should not have access to these secure channels.

“This is Athena’s direct line, Lynx. Why are you using it?”

“Ah, Genji. Excellent.” Lynx answered brightly. Not at all deterred by the risks they posed by hacking sensitive channels. “Technically this is a sub channel on Athena’s direct line. Nor is she particularly thrilled that I can do this, but all your traditional forms of communications have been hacked. Including hers. We needed a line that they cannot overhear.”

The ninja stilled. Talon had hacked their communication lines. That put the entire mission in jeopardy. “What is it Lynx?” He tried to keep his voice level. If he was to be the only source of incoming or outgoing transmissions it wouldn’t do to become hysterical.

“We’ve detected backup for the Talon operatives.” That was important information.

Genji asked the only question he needed to know. “Where?”

“There is a helicopter just outside the city. I estimate that it contains another six operatives”

“Then we have enough time to clear the warehouse and escape.”

“Uh… Soldier 76 says that it would be better to get out of there.” Genji knew Morrison had other words than the polite tone Lynx conveyed. He chose to ignore them both. Tracer and Zarya were still down there. He would have to enter the conflict anyway to inform them of this news. So in reality it changed nothing. Just the pressure of time. 

Genji leaned over the skylight and saw the black clad Talon operatives converging on a crate towards the middle of the warehouse. Just behind a tower of wooden crates Tracer waited for an opportune moment. Zarya was nowhere to be seen, but she was slower than the other two and would be holding the entrance. She would be sandwiched first should the backup arrive. The cyborg knew there would be no easy exit. If the others were not occupied with a similar task following up on a lead to a Talon theft, there would be more backup available to them. “Everyone is already in place. Tell me if the Talon backup starts to move.”

“Right. Then your best option would be to drop down at the access point behind you.” Lynx continued the mission without a beat.

“How…?”

“Satellite imagining. These pictures are about two months old, but fairly accurate. And your visor is giving me an excellent view of the scene below.”

“Lynx, it’s bad enough that you hacked Athena’s communication line, but did you have to hack my systems as well?” Genji took the suggestion anyway. As annoying as it was to have the hacker in his head, he knew when to take good advice. Lynx probably had a better idea of what was going on from all angles than the cyborg did.

“I’ll apologize appropriately once you are back safely. Is that a good compromise?”

“Better than nothing. You can promise not to do this again at that time.” Genji found the access point easily enough. Opening the hatch as quietly as possible only produced a slight squeal in the cold air. The opening dropped down to a staircase conveniently hidden behind a partial wall. How Lynx knew of this benefit baffled him. There must be floor plans that included this. Genji was able to slip through the crates with minimal noise. The display on his visor let him access the hacked channel. It was still the only way he had to communicate with the other two. But he didn’t need that. Tracer came around the corner also seeking a way to surprise the Talon operatives.

She nodded to him. He motioned for her to dart ahead and he would follow. Now was their chance. They could hear the soldiers cracking open the crates searching for the technology they had come for. Zarya couldn’t say what Volskaya had stored here. The Russian soldier was not privy to such secrets, only that she was expected to protect the Chairman and her property. Genji couldn’t understand why she held such loyalty, but he would not argue. They all agreed that Talon should not obtain anything to increase their strength.

Tracer blinked out of sight. The gunfire and shouting began. 

The chaos caused by the Slipstream pilot was the perfect atmosphere for Genji to wreak havoc. He directed his attack on the man with the cowboy hat. An explosion ripped through the black clad soldiers, separating the group. Zaryanova had arrived. The women dealt with the main force while Genji took care of the two in front of him. He could hear Tracer cheering as she picked them off. 

In close quarters his sword proved most effective. He slashed at his opponents. Slicing the arm of the man in cowboy hat, blocking the desperate strike from the other. The back of his mind still in conflict over who this soldier with the revolver and cowboy hat was. An injured McCree would be better than a dead one. He knew the wound was devastating, but Genji had to rid himself of the rifle wielding Talon operative first.

The butt of the rifle slammed towards his shoulder. The force bearing down on his sword was impressive. If he let it continue, Genji might have to worry about the integrity of his blade. Instead he dropped the block suddenly to strike swiftly under the soldier’s guard. He felt the drag of his blade as it through flesh and armor. It was a critical wound that needed tending or the man would die.

“Genji!” Lynx interrupted. “Their backup is on the move.”

“Understood.” The cyborg responded. Movement at the edge of his visor indicated someone aiming a gun in his direction. Reflexively he deflected the incoming bullet, still focused on the conversation. When he turned fully to assess the situation, he found the Talon soldier with the cowboy hat slumped against the wall. His heart surged into his throat and lead lined his gut. If he had killed McCree by mistake then this was the very situation they had dreaded. The explosions and gunfire behind him meant Tracer and Zarya needed his help. But Genji had to know. Had to find out if this was just another decoy. 

The ninja used the tip of his sword to tilt the hat away from the man’s face. He steeled his nerves for the worst. 

The blank face that stared fixated in death was not their friend. The man under the hat was remarkably similar to McCree. It was understandable as to why they would mistake him at a distance. Genji breathed a sigh of relief. He was tired of this game of decoys. Tired of having to be overly careful to not kill a stranger posing as their cowboy. He sheathed his katana and turned to join the other battle.

“It’s time to leave. They have backup.” Genji called to Lena and Zarya. 

“You got it!” Tracer shouted over the rattle of her pulse pistols. 

The Russian was not so easily convinced. “But Volskaya’s technology! We can’t simply leave it to them.”

“We can.” Genji said firmly. “When they say Talon has backup, they mean more men and guns then three people can handle. So unless you can carry the crate and your cannon, we need to leave without it.” The determination on the Lieutenant’s face made the cyborg think that she may very well try it. She also didn’t say anything more on the topic. Her particle beam surged into the Talon operatives. Breaking open a path to the backdoor.

“Well, come on!” Tracer called from the entrance. Genji bound above the heads of the enemy and showered them with shurikens. The threat from above distracted Talon long enough for the Russian Defense soldier to make it to the exit. The ninja easily darted for the door. As he guarded their retreat, Lena asked the question. “Was it him?”

“No. Another decoy. Dead this time.” His voice was flat. Tracer would understand that he had killed the man.

“Oh.” The cyborg saw the look of fear cross her face at the thought that one day it would be Jesse McCree in a Talon uniform and one of them might kill him. Genji however knew the cowboy would be more of a challenge than these foot soldiers. It was still a terrifying thought.

[\/][/\\]

“Well, he’s not kicking and screaming this time,” Sombra spun one of the lab stools from under the desk to sit across from the one armed cowboy strapped to the table. “What did you do to him this time?”

“Sombra, while normally I would not mind explaining the details of my experiments to a curious mind, would you please explain why you have barged your way into the operation room?” Dr. O’Deorain pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. Just the kind of response Sombra was accustomed to seeing. At least these people were predictable. 

Presenting Moira with a mischievous grin, Sombra went on to study her nails as she answered. “Oh, you know. Curious mind and all. And I have a feeling this guy is going to be my new best friend.”

“Of course you would.”

“Hey, I was the one that found him in the bar in Castillo. So why not?”

“The last thing we need is another troublemaker. I am hoping that with the adjustment McCree will become more manageable.”

“So you’re trying to turn him into another Widowmaker,” Sombra scooted closer to the table. The dark skinned cowboy was vastly different from the man she first met at the bar. Splayed out on the table without the bushy beard and layers of clothing or the obnoxious hat, the man seemed smaller. And not just physically. The hacker remembered watching images of the waiter now known to be Jesse McCree in the guise of Joel Buchanan and she completely dismissed the man at the time. He managed to be small in presence. The type of guy that no one bothered to take a second look at. Now he was even more reduced. It was scary at how Talon could take a larger than life caricature and lessen him to this extent.

_][_

_“Feliz Navidad!” Sombra brightly called to the bartender. He was already pouring her a glass of tequila. It was good to have friends even if they were ones that owed her favors. Or from extortion. Antonio was no different. She did keep his bar from being overrun with Los Muertos and kept the government out of his business for selling to known criminals._

_Antonio waved at her, setting her drink down at the end of the bar closest to the wall. It was her seat after all. He resumed pouring for other patrons. It was rather lively and considering the holiday, she was hardly surprised. Party goers cheering and toasting, filling the room with joyful noise. It was … nice. Sombra didn’t have these types of relationships with other people. So sharing the atmosphere was pleasant for a change._

_When the door opened, the hacker at first didn’t notice. Crowds like this came and went frequently. But she did notice the large man draped in a faded red serape and topped with tattered leather hat. He had a reputation within these parts. The lawless town of Castillo was perfectly happy to ignore him so long as he didn’t try anything. Sombra recognized him from the papers, claiming he had robbed a train she knew Talon had gotten a hold of. In fact the backup team was still complaining about one Jesse McCree almost ruining their heist._

_Sombra spent a moment to wonder how this was the first time she had come face to face with the outlaw. Her eyes never left him as he took a seat at the bar and ordered whiskey. “Leave the bottle,” he muttered. Overall his Spanish wasn’t terrible and just as obvious a second language. For now she just watched him over the polished glass of her tequila._

_Alone at Christmas. She knew something of that. Both of them seeking comfort in the one thing that couldn’t disappoint them. Alcohol._

_The night wore on. The crowds departed, heading home to their families and traditions. Antonio kept pouring for the lonely folk that stuck around. McCree had poured himself into a stupor. Most of the whiskey was gone. He was staring into the amber liquid of his glass as though the answers to the world’s questions lay hidden beneath the surface. Sombra had tried to learn more about him, but the web was remarkably empty about this overdone cowboy. Just a few scattered news reports on his vigilante antics._

_“How long you plan on staying, vaquero?” Sombra asked once the bar emptied to a skeleton crowd._

_The American huffed and drained his shot glass. “Didn’t know you had a curfew.” He poured another shot, leaving the silence to stretch. The hacker itched to fill the void. She also sensed he wasn’t done. “When you got nowhere to go, time doesn’t seem all that significant.”_

_“Guess this is as close to nowhere as you can get,” Sombra drained her glass and motioned for another. “Though even here they celebrate the holidays.”_

_“Let me know when you find a place that doesn’t.” McCree chuckled darkly. “Could use a few good days without reminders.”_

_“Reminders of what you had? Or what you never had?” The good cheer lived on vicariously from the boisterous crowd crumbled as the weak facade it was. Sombra scowled at her drink as if were the cause of her emotional issues._

_“Does it matter? We don’t got it now.” The cowboy raised his glass to her in a toast. “To memories better left forgotten.” He drained his glass and poured another. This time though he dropped his head to the counter. The drink no doubt making his head swim._

_The hacker continued to study her new glass and pondered the utterly depressing and astonishingly truthful statements from this bounty hunter. She needed to know more about him. Why he had such a dark view on life. Sombra knew why she shared this sentiment, not that she had ever heard it expressed so honestly before._

_][_

“I tried that,” Moira answered. Sombra had to refocus her attention. Annoyed with herself for loosing track of the topic from getting lost in her memories. “He did not take to it very well.”

“Oh?”

The doctor’s attention was on the monitor though she did continue her explanation. “Come to discover, the emotionless state that turned Lacroix into the superb sniper that she is, is the same sort of state that allows McCree to use his most deadly technique. Leaving him in that state of mind however takes its toll on the body and mind. The stress of such intense focus actually increased his metabolism to dangerous levels.”

Sombra leaned forward, curiosity getting the better of her. “So why is Amelie able to stay so cold and distant?

“She is able to remain dispassionate because as a sniper she must be still and silent. And to be capable of murdering someone you once loved, you must be distant from your emotions. That is the result of her brainwashing. But it doesn’t seem to work with McCree.” Moira frowned at the sedated man. “When we reduced his heart rate it threatened to stop on us.”

“You mean he died?” The gleam of excitement at the news entered her eyes. Sombra didn’t think the foremost geneticist could admit to failure.

“For about two minutes his heart stopped beating. We were able to return it to normal functioning once we warmed his body and shocked him a second time.”

“Guess there’s something to say about hot blooded Americans.” Sombra received a cool glare of annoyance from the scientist. The hacker wasn’t about to let that stop her. “So Amelie could tolerate the body temperature reduction and a slowing of her heart rate because she never expressed herself as… shall we say… violently as this guy. This is going to be fun. So, what are you going to try next?”

Moira settled onto her stool and studied the patient. “We need to change his perception of his memories if he is to join us without threatening to defect. To make him think he’s done so of his own accord.”

“You can do that?”

“Perhaps. While he is under sedation we are giving him proprietary chemicals to subtly alter his neurons.” Moira paused considered how to explain her plan to a layman. “Since we cannot remake his memories we can only nudge his emotions into a direction that favors us. Emotions are nothing more than chemicals created by the brain. It was much easier to distance Lacroix from her emotions and memories. This is proving time consuming and problematic.”

“Aw, McCree is still giving you trouble? That’s hilarious. Didn’t Gabe say he never much liked you?”

“Really, Sombra? Now is not the time.”

“I think it is. I’m starting to think that you are having way to much fun experimenting on a guy that didn’t want you around.” Sombra grinned. “One of these days I’m going to get the full story.” She relished the perturbed look on the doctor’s face. Instead of pushing the issue, Sombra turned to the unconscious cowboy. The stub of his left arm was closest to her and she dropped a hand on the bare appendage. “Hello, Joel. I have a feeling we’re going to get along great once they’re done.”

Sombra used the term that started this whole brainwashing endeavor. Surprising them both was the slow grin forming on the sedated man’s face. He had heard her and reacted. Beside her Moira hummed in speculation. “Interesting. That was not the Pavlovian response I was expecting.”

“What were you expecting?” Sombra groused, freaked out by McCree’s unconscious expression. 

“Well, given how violently he opposed the name upon arriving, I expected him to continue to do the same. Granted that for few months he did this while complying with our demands, before we moved on to this step… Curious.” McCree’s grin grew to something maniacal and he started to fight the restraints. “Now you’ve made him unstable.” Moira accused. She started to type frantically to change the doses of whatever was sedating the former Blackwatch cowboy. 

Sombra backed away, not wanting to get caught should the beefy man break the leather straps holding him down. He was thrashing wildly within the restraints. The grin plastered on his face. “Hey, don’t blame me. He’s the one who isn’t taking to your conditioning they way you expected.”

The doctor’s team rushed around their computers and monitors, muttering at how the sedated man should not be bucking as hard as a wild bronco. They puzzled over the grin, wondering at the subject’s state of mind. From the multiple vials connected to the man’s veins they adjusted the doses, changed two of them, and tilted the table down in preparation to insert a tube down the guy’s throat. Apparently they were ready to sedate him to the point he couldn’t breath on his own. To intubate the man. It seemed a little extreme to Sombra, but she was a computer genius not a mad scientist. 

She slipped out in the middle of the chaos. Of course she would be blamed for the incident later, but she didn’t need to hear it right then. Let the good insane doctors do their work. Sombra had other avenues to pursue. Like undoing all the safeguards Lynx Seventeen had created around Watchpoint Gibraltar’s communications. She should have hacked the Omnic into oblivion when she had the chance. 

[\/][/\\]

Akande stood on the level above the experimentation room overlooking the scientists monitoring their current project. Beside him stood Reyes and O’Deorain. “Have there been any more set backs?” He asked, directing an accusatory glare at the third person in the room. Sombra. After her interference conditioning McCree’s memories became more of a challenge. He would not attempt to speed the process but he was growing impatient to see the results. 

“None that could not be handled.” Moira answered. Her gaze also directed to the room below. “McCree has proven particularly difficult. Records show that Lacroix’s transition was not nearly as troublesome.”

Reaper cracked his neck at this statement. Still it took a few extra moments before he voiced his opinion on the matter. “Lacroix did not have military training designed to combat this intrusion. I did warn you that McCree was stubborn.” 

“And your concern was duly noted.” Moira countered with an edge of annoyance. “This was more a case of McCree’s physiology not being susceptible to our ministrations. When you described his technique of seeing the kill shots, I assumed it would be beneficial to keep him in that state. His mind could not handle the stress of such intense focus for such a long period of time. I did discover in all this that his body was more genetically able to handle the SEP serums than either you or Morrison.”

“What did you do?” Reaper growled.

“Nothing as intense as what they did in the Soldier Enhancement Program. But I was able to increase his strength and stamina. He will probably be more than capable of taking you on in feats of physical prowess.” The doctor sounded pleased with herself. “And I cleaned up his eyesight a bit. Though it was acceptable, age still crept up on him. In a few more years he would have noticed a building of cataracts. Shame for him to loose his eyesight to something so treatable.”

The African business man frowned. “And the final product?”

“We will have to wake him up to see.” Moira’s response was more of a sigh than declaration. It had been the same with Lacroix. All their work could only be judge once the subject was awake and given a mission. Even after her successful assassination of her husband, Widowmaker had required additional adjustments until she was the weapon they needed. The same would be expected of McCree.

“How long?”

Moira tapped her nails against her chin. “Until he wakes? Hard to say exactly. He’s been off sedation for several hours now. Handled the extubation well. But we should be seeing signs of him waking up soon. Judging from the previous sedations.”

As they spoke the man of their conversation shifted within the bonds holding him to the table. Everyone stilled. Both those in the observation room and on the floor of the experimentation room. Save for the monitors and their incessant beeping, not a sound emerged. Akande pressed the intercom into the room below so they could hear anything that might happen.

Void of hair the gunslinger barely looked human. With the lines and wires attached to him, the man barely looked like the soldier Reyes had described. He didn’t even look like the bounty hunter on the wanted poster or the alias Akande had met. The left arm was only half of what it should be. What had been a hirsute chest had also been shaven to provide space for the various electrodes. The current leader of Talon watched as this changed man opened his eyes to the new reality. The reality in which he was a much needed weapon that Akande would use to improve all of humanity.

The ring of yellow around dark brown eyes should not have taken him by surprise. Lacroix’s eyes had changed to yellow following Talon’s procedures on her. Why wouldn’t the very same chemicals altering McCree’s perception of the world not have a similar effect. Perhaps it unnerved him more because those eyes had pinned him immediately upon opening. McCree’s face was otherwise blank. Akande could not tell his emotional state. If there even was one. Yet the man seemed to know who to blame for his current condition.

McCree jerked his arms against the leather straps, testing their hold. Since they did not budge he scowled and studied the situation. He paid particular attention to his empty left arm. Giving it an angry twist, McCree said, “Very funny. Whose idea was it to take my arm?” The voice was low and annoyed. A far cry from the angry shouting and accusations from months earlier. 

“McCree,” Akande spoke through the intercom into the lab. “What do you know about what is going on?”

“Not much,” McCree answered civilly, if irritated. “Save I’m down here and you’re up there so that makes you some sort of boss.” The yellow ringed eyes returned their disgruntled glare back to Akande. The gunslinger was astute.

Akande gazed back impassively. “And your mission?”

“Don’t got one. Don’t need one.” McCree smirked. Reyes growled at the statement. Probably from the memory of a similar encounter when he had taken the outlaw into Blackwatch. Just like then Talon would give their newest acquisition a task well suited to his abilities. Make it so the sharpshooter wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

“Let us try this again.” Akande took a breath to calm his nerves. He would not let a smart mouthed weapon get the better of him. “Hello, Joel.” They had burned this phrased into the gunslinger’s mind with the expressed purpose of keying it into obedience.

McCree’s mouth turned from a self satisfied smirk to an outright eager grin. “Who’s the target?” The man leaned forward, straining at the straps. Moira hadn’t subdued the man’s emotions. It appeared as if she had exaggerated them. Not that she had many options or even solid knowledge of what the outcome would be.

“We’ll go over the details once you get cleaned up. Johnson and Nowak will accompany you.” He had purposefully assigned non Blackwatch operatives to guard over McCree, not wanting the former colleagues to come to blows over McCree’s integration to Talon.

The two soldiers stood by while the scientist and their assistants unhooked the gunslinger from the table and their machines. It was a tense moment. No one knew for certain if McCree was acting or truly changed. The man waited patiently for his release. Once bare feet hit the floor, he ran his hand over his bald head and scowled. “Now that’s just insulting. You know how long it’s gonna take to grow back!” If he was more angry with the loss of his hair than with being strapped to an experimentation table, then perhaps the conditioning worked. Only time would tell which way the former cowboy would lean.

“Well Gabe, looks like you got another wild one to handle.” Sombra chirped from her screens. “Got to be looking forward to that.” Reaper stormed out of the room without another word. The hacker just smiled to herself, ignoring the atmosphere. 

Below as the soldiers exited the lab, Reaper appeared in the doorway. Akande watched intently. Reyes always seemed able to see through McCree’s lies. And McCree never could keep up any act long in the face of the former Blackwatch Commander’s antagonizations. This could very well determine if Moira had succeeded. 

“You mean to tell me you’re more concerned over a haircut?” Reaper’s annoyed growled filled the room.

“Well unlike you, I don’t like the military crew cut,” McCree shot back, a deep scowl forming. 

The masked terrorist muttered, “Damn ingrate.”

“When I find something to be grateful for I’ll be sure to let you know.” McCree groused, interrupting anything Reaper might have said. Then despite every attempt to humiliate the cowboy and reduce his physical appearance, the sharpshooter drew up to his full height and gained a presence twice his size. Enough to go toe to toe with his former Commander. McCree leaned in glaring at the empty eye sockets of the blank white mask. “You know what, Reyes, you died six years ago. Now you’re nothing but a ghost,” he sneered. McCree shoved past the black cloak and carelessly tossed out the words, “When we work together, don’t get hung up on the past. I sure won’t. I feel like a new man.” They caught sight of a massive grin as the gunslinger turned the corner.

This little exchange seem to settle that McCree was successfully conditioned to work for Talon. He still seemed to maintain his independent spirit, which could cause trouble in the future. The man would need careful watching for quite some time before Akande felt comfortable with sending him on solo missions.

“I like him,” Sombra chuckled from her new position beside the businessman. Akande would also have to limit the hackers access to the gunslinger. He did not need the two to brew even more potentially devastating and self satisfying plots than what Sombra already had on her plate.

To his other side, Moira was silent. She was lost in thought. No doubt trying to pinpoint what had not been successful and trying to figure out a remedy. They needed to lasso this cowboy and bring him to heel. Akande couldn’t afford wild upstarts to ruin his carefully laid plans.


	15. Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first mission of Talon McCree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two lines to keep in mind:
> 
> "Eyes of fire, hearts of gold."  
> &  
> "Whenever life deals 'em down and dirty, They just play another hand."  
> \- Tracy Lawrence, _Renegades, Rebels, and Rouges_

**[\/][/\\] Chapter Fifteen: Trouble**

McCree finally felt clean. Not that he had been particularly filthy, but something about a shower just felt good. A torrent of warm water raining down on each muscle group managed to fix the aches and pains that he never remembered receiving. He stretched as if he hadn’t moved in ages. Simple movements never felt so good. Even as he stood before the mirror studying the changes to his body, McCree could only wonder what was waiting for him once he stepped out of this locker room.

There were three things he wanted back. His arm. His hat. And most importantly his revolver. His hair would grow back, but getting dressed without his left hand was a chore he did not ever enjoy. The return of his gun would end this sensation of being a prisoner. He had had enough of that feeling in the past. The similar echos to his younger days in Blackwatch grated on his nerves in the worst possible way. He had left all that behind. Was supposed to be starting something new. 

“Hola!” A woman’s voice abruptly announced company. He glanced over his shoulder as he pulled the sweatpants into place. With dyed purple hair and obvious cybernetics on her scalp, the intruder felt familiar. She leaned against the lockers, studying her nails. Yet she had a mischievous grin growing in her eyes. He could have sworn he had met her before, but perhaps that had been in a dream. 

Regardless of the elusive memory, McCree scowled in her direction. “Privacy don’t mean much around here, does it?”

“It’s the only chance I had of talking to you before Akande makes it difficult. You and I. We got a lot in common.”

“Oh?” The gunslinger struggled into the sweatshirt before turning to face the woman now watching him intently. “What could you possible have in common with me?”

“Drinks for one.”

“So the dream where you spiked my drink at the bar was real after all.”

“Ha. There was no spiking of drinks, vaquero. But we did meet at the bar.” The woman leaned forward with a massive grin. McCree felt his mouth respond in kind. Whatever this woman was up to would be much more fun than what awaited him with the boss’s plans.

“We don’t have much time then. Name’s McCree. Don’t think we were properly introduced last time.”

“Call me Sombra. Now after you meet with Akande, come meet me in the kitchens. You know, just a drink for old times sake. You’ll want to know about the visitor you had a few months ago.”

That was something intriguing. “Visitor? Now you have my interest.” McCree didn’t recall ever having visitors. The grin started to hurt his cheeks with how excited the prospect of a visitor made him.

“I’ll tell you all about it over drinks.” Sombra waved then vanished in a wash of digitized purple pixels. 

Well that was something. A job and a visitor. McCree was going to like this place. Even with the haze blurring his memories worse than his most recent drinking binge. Focusing back on reality the gunslinger pulled his left sleeve up until the stump was free of the cloth. The skin embedded with wires and cybernetics itched as his nerve endings tried stretch nonexistent fingers. He needed to put himself back together from a fight he could not remember.

He might not be dressed appropriately but this was what they gave him. He still had a boss to meet. 

And his arm to find.

When McCree exited the locker room the two Talon soldiers who accompanied him flanked him again. They would escort him to wherever that massive black man waited. The man who even Gabriel Reyes answered to. That was also something McCree needed answers to. So he followed without complaint. 

Into a brightly lit room featuring a gently moving holographic mural of the savannah in Africa, awaited the boss behind a desk that made the hulking man in a crisp tailored suit look small. Akande. The man who made this all possible. McCree wasn’t sure which emotion correctly identified his reaction. Admiration for being capable of controlling the chaos that had caused the gunslinger to go rouge in the first place. Or frustration at being held captive in a medical torture chamber while Moira and her crew fixed him.

“You owe me a new arm and a new hat.” In the long run it didn’t matter what he felt. All that mattered was getting through to the next job. That was his life. For as long as he could remember. One firefight after another. So this last one didn’t go as planned. Or that it felt off from his others. A job was a job and he couldn’t do anything without his gear. “And I want my gun back.”

“McCree.” Akande stood from the ornately carved wooden desk. Even standing the muscle bound businessman appeared normal sized next to the writing structure. The gunslinger knew he wasn’t a small man, but standing next to this boss created the sensation he was simply tall and lanky. “Glad to see you up and eager for the next assignment. You will receive all three in good time. Have a seat.”

“Thanks anyway. I feel like I’ve done nothing but sit around for months.” McCree wanted to cross his arms and express his annoyance with the situation. Not having a left arm made that impossible. Increasing his irritation. “So, what do I call you again?”

The boss laughed as brightly as the summer sun on the savannah. “Your memory will come back to you. For now, call me Akande or Doomfist.”

“Fancy callsign for a giant metal glove.”

“It is. But it more than lives up to the name.” The businessman turned towards a cabinet occupying the entire wall to McCree’s left. He tilted his head to watch. Akande pressed a tall panel and the door sprung open emitting a hiss of hydraulics. “Finding you the perfect replacement for your prosthetic might take some time, but until then I’ve tailored a few to suit you.” A bizarre display of limbs sat in the velvet lined shelves. The flesh tone arms felt wrong. Too easily mistaken for real ones.

McCree wrinkled his nose at the selections. “I like my old one, thanks.”

“Your old one was obsolete. Already damaged beyond repair.”

“Nothing is beyond repair.”

Akande’s mood darkened. McCree stood a little straighter. Dealing with a boss poised to strike never sat well. Though he tried to fly under the radar, McCree knew he riled the men in charge. It was just too easy to do. “It is unrecoverable.” The boss took a steadying breath before continuing. “The technicians will help customize one for you. One of these will make daily activity easier.”

No getting around it then. McCree stepped up to the display and frowned. The skin tones matched his rather well. And he could feel his left fingers twitch with anticipation of being used again. He understood the appeal of having a prosthetic mimic reality, but it felt inappropriate. Like a fraud. Obviously he used his left hand every day. That was natural. Natural to forget that he had a prosthetic in the first place. But he remembered somewhere in the far reaches of his messed up memory having a prosthetic that was useful, sturdy and reminded him every time he glanced down of what he had lost. He needed that arm back.

None of these would do that.

He grabbed the thick chrome appendage and studied the attachments. As Akande had said, the fittings would align with the cybernetics coordinating with his nervous system. “Can these crush metal?” Most people would look at him strangely for such a question. That the suited man simply nodded with an understanding half smile on his face reassured McCree that his boss knew what he was looking for.

“They can break a man’s femur if you need to. And most metals fold like paper when crumpled.”

The smooth solid forearm was heavy. The fingers with open joints. No mistaking this for flesh. Sleek shiny metal. He was already leaving fingerprints on the surface. “This will do.” Tucking the prosthetic under his left arm, McCree prepared his cybernetics to accept the new equipment. They seemed different. Perhaps more of them. He must have damaged his arm more than he remembered in the last battle. Along with half his brain. Still the cuff slipped over his stump as if tailored made. Akande would have all the necessary measurements. His technicians too. So new arm down.

“My hat?” McCree flexed the silvery fingers. He did like the smooth reactions from this new prosthetic. It might take a few days to get used to the sensitivity.

“When you collect your belongings, your hat will be there. And your revolver is currently in safe keeping with Reyes.”

“Guess that just leaves the job you told me about.” The gunslinger fixed his gaze on the boss. The eager smile returning at the thought of getting out and getting revenge against whoever messed him up.

“The next assignment will take Reyes and his team to Russia. You of course will be joining.”

“So I am reporting to him still. Figures. Anything else?” Just another day on the job. Reyes had better watch his back though. McCree wasn’t in the mood to deal with his superiority complex. He had had enough of it in the past.

“No. For the time being someone will be present to assist you. I understand your memories are not what they were. Last thing we need is for you to get lost.” Akande pressed a button on his desk and the door opened behind McCree. The same two soldiers came to escort him out. So as far as McCree was concerned he was still on probation. Now if only he could remember what caused the crazed reaction that required this much attention.

Perhaps his new friend Sombra would know. She had said he had a visitor during that lost time. Time to go find out.

“Hey, Nowak,” he called to the tall black soldier escorting him. “Where’s the kitchen?”

“Why?”

“Because if I can’t have my gun, then I’m getting a knife.” Apparently that was the wrong thing to say. Both Talon soldiers reached for their pistols. McCree just chuckled. Once men stayed in the military too long they lost their sense of humor. “What a high strung lot you are. I want a drink and a sandwich. Now which way?” The other one. Johnson. Tall, white and built like a willow. He eased his hand away from the pistol and started walking, making a gesture meant to encourage McCree to follow. Until he learned, or relearned these corridors as the medical staff had insisted was the case, McCree had no other choice.

“Sombra!” Johnson growled annoyed at finding the Talon operative where they were headed. Yep, that woman was going to be fun. “What are you doing here?”

“Can’t a girl get a drink without being interrupted? Ooh you brought mister wild and dangerous with you.” Sombra leaned around the soldier to wave at him. “Come, have a drink. We might even be able to get these two lugs to share the bottle.” In her right hand was a squat bottle of light honey colored tequila. Not his first choice but he wouldn’t turn it down.

“Mighty fine selection.” McCree shouldered past his escort and poured himself a shot in one of the already waiting glasses. That woman didn’t play around. The soldiers assigned to watch him scowled at the scene. So what if they were on the job. McCree was going to share in the offered drink.

“We aren’t here to socialize.” Nowak gripped McCree’s upper left arm. 

That wouldn’t do. McCree jerked his arm out of the invasive grasp. “I came for a drink and sandwich. I ain’t gonna say no to some company. Now you boys can sit outside if you don’t like it.” The dark glower in his eyes lost some of its effect without his hat to shade his face. Still it was enough to send the soldiers reeling back a few steps. The world around him started to slow as he focused on his escorts. “If you don’t mind, I’m taking that drink.”

“We’ll be outside.” The black soldier motioned for his partner to join him.

Sombra downed a shot of tequila and poured herself another. “They’ll tell Akande, but he was bound to find to regardless. Besides we’ll be working together soon.”

“You promised information. What’s it gonna cost?” McCree swallowed the alcohol and relished the burn against his throat. It brought a realness back to him. His head felt oddly stuffy since he woke up. Something to do with the incident that required intense medical attention. Now if only he could remember what that was.

“You don’t play around, do you.”

“You don’t go offering information about unknown visitors without wanting something in return. Don’t think I don’t recognize a deal just because I’ve been strapped to a table for an unknown period of time.” McCree leaned forward, pinning that dark glare on the woman on the other side of the counter. To her credit Sombra did not flinch.

“Alright, you got me. You are going to help me get some information I’ve been having trouble with.”

“I’m listening.” He took another shot and settled on one of the stools. This would be interesting.

“Explain to me how in every single database I search, you don’t exist. And yet most world governments have a price on your head. I find that little tidbit fascinating.”

“Wouldn’t know. Can’t say I really pay attention to what the government is doing. Just trying to get by.”

“Well you’re going to help me figure that out.” Sombra grinned.

McCree shrugged. What could be the harm in that. “How do you plan on that? I just have a gun and my name.”

“You don’t have your gun right now.”

Scowling at the reminder, McCree shuffled off the stool to the refrigerator. While filling his belly with liquor had its appeal, he was still hungry for real food. “So? Still don’t know what good either will do you.”

“That’s the best part. You don’t need to. I just need another pair of eyes with brain enough to question what people say is the truth. And you seem like the type of guy that refuses to accept things as they appear.”

“Well aren’t you just full of flattery.” McCree dropped the components to make a turkey sandwich onto the counter. “So I’m just to watch your back while you sneak around the boss’s back?”

“Pretty much sums it up.” Sombra shrugged. 

“Right. Not that I have any reason to protect his interests any more than Reyes’s. So, you’re going to tell me about this so called visitor as long as I protect your agenda.”

“I’ll tell you about the visitor regardless. And in gratitude you will help me in the future.”

That sounded more like the deal he was expecting. McCree chewed on his sandwich considering his options. The bizarre hole in his memory meant he couldn’t make the informed decision he needed to. Last thing he remembered clearly was being on a high speed train kicking off some unknown glowing piece of tech. But even that wasn’t as clear as he thought it could be. Whatever had been in that cube must have really messed him up. McCree did consider everything he could piece together and what the medical staff had told him. He worked for Talon, had a bad incident he wouldn’t talk about, and had tried to take it out on his teammates. But aside from Moira and Reyes, he couldn’t remember meeting the others. 

Making up his mind felt an awful lot like selling his soul to the devil. Considering how many times McCree did favors for the devil, he thought he ought to have some sort of compensation to even it out. Today wasn’t that day either. “You got yourself a deal. Now, give me something to be gratuitous about.” Sombra slid over a holographic tablet with a picture of a man. All sharp angles in the face and neatly trimmed black hair and beard. The eyes though could cut steel even from just the photo. Below was a name. “Who…”

Sombra cut him off. “That’s all you get to know. Tentative agreement and all. I could tell you more, but it will cost ya.” She grinned. McCree knew enough to stay away from getting deeper in debt with a loan shark. She might not deal in money, but her currency left men forever broken. He’d find the answers on his own just to avoid going morally bankrupt. 

“Hanzo Shimada.” McCree liked the way the name rolled off his tongue. 

[\/]

“Let me get this straight,” McCree leveled an annoyed glare at the paper pusher trying to tell him how to do his job. “You’re giving me a callsign.” The man nodded. “Named after a technique I had no say in naming in the first place.”

“Uh.. there were other choices…” The suit stumbled over his words under the gunslinger’s glower.

“No.” That was final. McCree wouldn’t take a callsign that ridiculous. “I ain’t never had a callsign, don’t need one now.” Arms folded resolutely across his chest. That’s where he would draw the line.

Akande stepped forward to weigh in. As if the wall of muscle could add anything to change his mind. “Everyone has a callsign to make communications clear.”

“Don’t mean anything to me.” McCree shrugged. “The others I get. Widowmaker killed her husband and countless others. Reaper eats souls. Doomfist is a fancy name for a metal glove.” He really did enjoy the small expressions of annoyance his descriptions caused. Lacroix’s pinched features. Reyes’s telltale crack of his neck. Akande’s right hand balled into a tight fist. Served them right for trying to saddle him with the obnoxious name Deadeye. “And what the hell is a Sombra anyway?”

“Don’t go there, vaquero.” She was the only one not frustrated with his descriptions. He could see her trying to hold back laughter at the responses from the others. Must have been things she desperately had wanted to say herself.

“And I can guess as to the other names on that list. Outlaw. Renegade. Rebel. Rouge. Gunslinger. Knowing you lot, you probably put some form of Peacekeeper on there.” McCree ran his hand under his fedora, sneering at the options they laid out fo him. He didn’t like it, but it did the job. Particularly hiding the buzzcut until time took its course. He had kept up with the daily shaving. Growing a beard with no hair just felt wrong. “Newsflash for you. I am an outlaw. Name plastered on wanted posters all over the world. So hiding my identity won’t do any good. And it’s not like McCree is too similar to any of your names.”

“Those wanted posters are being removed.” Reyes growled. “Now pick a name so we can move on.”

McCree paused. He wanted to ramble on about how idiotic these callsigns were but if picking a name meant he could hold Peacekeeper again then he would gladly suffer the humiliation of a callsign. Another decision made solely so he could fire a revolver again. “Maverick.” The word came to him from some distant past he couldn’t bother to dredge up.

Reyes scoffed. “Fine. Gear up. We leave in ten minutes.” The mechanically assisted voice tailed off as the enhanced soldier turned to exit the briefing room. 

“Where are we going?” McCree called after him.

“If you hadn’t spent so long complaining, you would know.” The answer was not surprising. McCree was still technically on probation even weeks after the medical release. They would never give him the full details even if he hadn’t put up a stink about the callsign. All he knew was the four of them were heading out steal something. Sombra joked about how the theft could cause the war between Omnics and Humans to start all over again. If McCree understood anything about the look on Akande’s face when the hacker said this, he would bet the businessman intended that to be the outcome.

Sombra looped her arm around his and tugged. Grinning she teased, “Let’s go, Maverick. I’ll fill you in on the way.” He was already regretting the callsign.

[\/][/\\]

“Why are we going back to Russia?” Genji sat the conference table, idly spinning one of his shurikens as a top. Hanzo had thought his brother matured during his time with the Shambali. This display proved otherwise.

The Russian Defense Soldier explained through gritted teeth. “Chairman Volskaya said what Talon had been after in Yakutsk was not stolen. She has received warning from her security that they will try again.”

“Did she tell you what it is this time?” Lena asked.

Lieutenant Zaryanova shook her head. “No. She will not disclose that information. Only that she is keeping it in her facility and residence.”

“And we can assume that since the first group of soldiers failed, Talon will send in their elite soldiers.” Morrison broke into the conversation. “That is their pattern. Among those soldiers will be Reaper and Widowmaker. Volksaya has requested our assistance in stopping this theft.”

“Guard duty, that’s something new for us.” Genji chuckled. The Blackwatch missions Hanzo had learned about were more akin to the Santa Fe mission that went wrong.

“You won’t be going,” Morrison’s commander’s voice stunned the cyborg. “If the elusive Sombra is present, I don’t want her disabling you.”

“That’s not going to happen.” The overconfident young ninja insisted.

From the background working on the computer screens with Athena, a new but rapidly becoming familiar voice explained the former Strike Commander’s worry. “Hey, I thought she couldn’t get into my systems. Being a hacker myself I put up every safeguard imaginable.” Lynx Seventeen cocked their head towards the group, the ear like antenna drooped slightly. “That didn’t stop her. She’s already been wreaking havoc on Athena’s systems. We’re barely able to keep her out. Just think about what she could do if I was able to slip into your systems with Athena’s permission.”

The room went silent.

They all knew how dangerous that prospect was. Even Genji was subdued. His cybernetics were his life. Hanzo definitely did not wish that upon his brother. 

“For this I believe Aleksandra, Lena, Lucio, and Hanzo would be the most appropriate for this.” Morrison continued. “There is not much to go on beyond watching for Talon and keeping the area Chairman Volskaya designated secure. She apparently does not trust everyone in her private security.”

Hanzo frowned as he was listed for this mission. This had nothing to do with finding McCree. All rumors regarding Talon had brought out nothing but decoys. He would still go. Sitting around this base was not helping at all. 

The open panel planning session grated on his nerves this time. The Russian Lieutenant would be in charge as it was her home turf. Hanzo had no problem with that. But he could have done without the overactive musician or the bubbly time jumper. Additionally the generation gap made him feel ancient. He did not want to deal with their excitement. He would go, do his job, and return to continue the search for their missing gunslinger.

[/\\]

Volksaya Industries. An industrial complex that never slept. Why anyone would want to have a private mansion next to a factory was beyond him. Nor why she would keep high security technology within her private residence. They were told nothing about the item. In Hanzo’s experienced that suggested an illegal activity took place. Of course he was not one to judge.

Crouched behind an ornamental arch on the roofline, Hanzo scouted the most likely approach over the ice choked river. The Chairman had the most advanced security system in the world. More armed guards than even Helix Security kept on their bases. Still she enlisted a band of mismatched, blatantly illegal, vigilantes to guard her secrets. He could not see how the four of them could do anything her security guards could achieve. Except they understood how Talon worked.

The worst part of Talon was that they did not care about what time of day or night to strike. Most of their successful jobs had been in broad daylight. And they had unbelievable access to airspace. They could thank Akande and his legion of bureaucracy cronies for that. 

A part of him wondered if there could have been a benefit to joining Talon when he had met with Akande in the underground base. He might have been able to provide information regarding this mission while searching for McCree. Still Hanzo knew he had no place within Talon. He had put that life behind him when he left Hanamura. Said farewell to organized crime and became a mercenary. Where all he had to do was look out for himself. No higher agenda. Just the next paycheck. He would have to find another contract soon. The Recall did not provide any source of income.

A dark swirl through the shadows of the buildings caught Hanzo’s attention. “Possible incoming from the river.”

“Nothing on the sensors. Are you sure?” Lucio’s bright call sent a growl of annoyance through Hanzo. Of course he wasn’t sure. He did not know how Reaper would appear to the security system. Hanzo did know that Widowmaker was generally too cold to register on most heat sensors or movement sensors. And that was if anything to go by, Reaper would be able to slip in unnoticed. Even without the help of a hacker.

“It was an unusual black mist. It headed to the eastern wing of the building. Interpret that as you will. No sign of the others. Widowmaker will be set up to cover their escape.” Hanzo scanned the roofs of neighboring buildings. Last time he encounter the sniper they were not facing off against each other. She was formidable. He had watched her take down a politician half a city away in Oslo from a towering skyscraper. It was unlikely she would be visible from where he crouched at the Volskaya’s private offices. “I’m dropping down to the alley. If Reaper is here then the theft is already in progress.”

“No one approaching the safe.” Zaryanova answered over the communication lines. Lynx had not come on to suggest that their lines had been hacked. Hanzo could not see the interior so he did not know the full situation. He trusted the soldier in that nothing was visible within the building. Which explained why none of the standard security was saying anything. But Hanzo’s instinct told him they were already in the middle of the invasion. 

The moment the archer’s feet touched snow drift, he noticed foreign bootprints. They weren’t the highly grooved impression from Volksaya’s security. A smooth pointed mark with distinct rounded heel. Hanzo had seen enough cowboy boots to recognize the track from the alley to a backdoor. He tried the door and found it unlocked. Could the gunslinger really slip in unnoticed? After all the decoys was he finally part of the elite lineup?

Pausing before he entered, Hanzo sent the message hesitantly. He could not get his hopes up. “Be alert. Evidence of a cowboy from the southeastern back entrance.”

Lucio was the first to recover. “McCree? He’s here?”

“I’ve not seen him, no. Just footprints that match his type of shoe.”

“Still nothing from the inside. I’ve checked all sides of the safe.” Lena’s soprano held a tinge of concern. That meant somehow Talon infiltrated the whole security system without triggering anything. It was not the usual brazen attack they had become accustomed to. If anything it made him nervous. 

A soft crunch of snow behind him forced Hanzo to turn and launch an arrow at the intruder. Dark blue and black suit fluttered with a flash of silver as the man dodged. Under the black fedora the formerly familiar brown eyes wielded a yellow halo. This was no decoy. Clean shaven, sharply dressed, McCree did not feel the same as what he once knew. The smile was too tight and did not reach his eyes. Lacking the cigar managed to make the face into a stranger. 

The eyes boring into Hanzo were cold and distant above a forced smile. No lazy easygoing cheer from the gunslinger before him. “So you’re Hanzo Shimada.” The grin broadened. A silver left hand tipped the fedora. “Pleasure.” The same charm and the same relaxed confidence. Yet staring down the barrel of the revolver brought back memories of the first time he encountered this sharpshooter. And this time the man held no compassion or curiosity in his eyes. This was not the Jesse McCree he knew.

Hanzo could not believe this man was the same cowboy. “Jesse?” He couldn’t drop his own tautly drawn arrow. At this range it would be whoever reacted first.

“McCree, if you don’t mind. Heard you came to visit while I was medically indisposed.” The joviality felt forced. The grin never changed. “Hoped I’d get a chance to say hello.” What was he supposed to say to that? Hanzo was trapped between the gunslinger and the wall. He would be of no help when the actual attack came. The former cowboy clicked back the hammer of his revolver. “I’d thank you properly, but you're in the way.”

“Jesse, you don’t have to do this.” Hanzo should release his arrow. There was no way the lumbering man could dodge at this range. Still the fact that he had dodged the first time meant his reflexes were faster. His eyesight in the dull glow of the snow was sharper. Talon had changed more than his mind.

“You know something. You’re right. I don’t.” The grin darkened. “But I’m still gonna finish the job.” For a split second Hanzo believed McCree would pull the trigger. Then the sound of gunfire filled the hall behind him. The gunslinger wasted a glance to the door. The archer would not be so distracted. Hanzo took that moment to fire. His arrow buried deep into Jesse’s right shoulder. “Damn it!” The well known growl of an irate cowboy followed Hanzo as he darted around the injured arm just to set up another shot to McCree’s back. 

That placed him close enough to hear the irritated mechanical voice of Reaper from the gunslinger’s earpiece. “Maverick, clear out. We got what we came for.”

“Got some unfinished business here, boss.” Jesse stared over his injured shoulder at Hanzo and the drawn bow. The yellow ring around the eyes glinted dangerously in the pitiful streetlights.

Reaper was not satisfied with that answer if Hanzo could judge the annoyance correctly. “Finish now and make it back to the transport.”

The sudden lopsided, almost feral grin McCree sprouted took Hanzo by surprise. “You heard the man. See ya around, Hanzo.” Before any response could form in his brain, McCree spun and threw one of his obnoxious flash bangs into the archer’s face.

Blinding light and roaring noise stunned Hanzo for a precious few seconds. When he came to he watched McCree lever himself over the rail of the next-door balcony with that silver prosthetic. Then vanish from sight. “Zayra! What happened in there!” Hanzo shouted into his comm. He was torn between rushing after Jesse and returning to his team. Dreaded silence pulsed with static. “Zarya! Lucio! Tracer!” He called to his team again, trotting into the doorway.

“Here.” The deep female voice of the Lieutenant finally answered. A long stream of Russian followed. Hanzo waited impatiently. He needed to follow their lost teammate. “We’re all here. Reaper surprised us from inside the vault. We don’t know how he got in. Tracer tried to chase down Sombra. Minor injuries. But we’re alive.”

“Sombra must have managed a radio blackout.” Lucio answered. “I tried to warn you, but there was nothing.”

Hanzo sighed and glanced to the balcony where the cowboy vanished. “I was occupied.” With a few quick steps, he climbed to that second floor entrance, intent on follow whatever trail was left of the cowboy’s retreat. The moment he stepped through the threshold that thought flew from his mind and his body halted. Before him were the dozen Volskaya security guards set to watch the perimeter. Lain out along the carpet. Each one shot in the head. Most with a large bore hole indicative of a sniper. Some with a smaller, gunpowder ringed entry wound suggesting point blank range. He had been sitting on the roof of the residence and Hanzo had heard nothing that remotely sounded like gunshots. 

One answer lay innocently on a table next to a deck of cards spread out as if the gunman had wasted time by playing solitaire. The pistol had a silencer attached to the muzzle. Hanzo could clearly imagine the suit and tie clad gunslinger approaching the line of security, looking completely unlike the wanted man he was. Engaging the security in conversation, distracting each one or drawing him out to a place where Widowmaker could take them down. And those that the sniper could not reach, the gunslinger shot himself.

The time it must have taken to kill these men and bring their bodies to this room meant Talon had been working long before Hanzo and his team had arrived. The archer wondered if lesser Talon soldiers had taken the place of these security guards or helped transport the dead. It had been an elaborate heist. Not the simple breaking and entering done in the past. Talon was evolving.

“Tell Volskaya that many of her guards did not survive the encounter,” Hanzo sighed as he related the news to Zaryanova. As his eyes glanced over the massacre he found the same bootprints in the congealed blood exiting the far door. Logically he knew McCree was capable of this. He just did not wish to accept it. “Lynx? Are you still listening in?”

The Omnic had been banned from actively communicating with them unless an emergency arose. Hanzo however knew the hacker would still ignore parts of that rule. “Here, Hanzo. How might I assist you?” Their voice was not as bright and mocking as it usually was. The gravity of the situation finally sunk into their circuits.

“Patch me through to everyone.” In that cold early winter night, Hanzo’s eyes could not leave the final traces of the cowboy boots disappearing through an interior hall. Once Lynx supplied him with the knowledge that all agents of the Overwatch Recall effort were on and listening, Hanzo announced the news. “Jesse McCree is alive and under Talon control.” Hanzo removed his earpiece and turned if off immediately. He did not want to answer questions right then. His friend was now his enemy. His failure to keep his team together had lead to this. He now knew for certain that bringing McCree back from Talon’s brainwashing would be difficult and painful. Hanzo would find a way to accomplish it.


	16. Uncertainty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deciding on what must be done.

**[/\\][\/] Chapter Sixteen: Uncertainty**

An empty bottle of sake sat beside him as the sun peaked over the rocky cliffs heralding morning. Hanzo had excused himself immediately after the debriefing. There were only so many times he could rehash the events surrounding Jesse McCree. He escaped to the top of the cliffs to drink and meditate. To the very same spot where he first encountered the gunslinger.

Tan rocky cliffs above. Boulders shadowing a difficult path through terrain. The very top where Hanzo first laid eyes on Watchpoint: Gibraltar. Patches of brush clinging to the surface cracks. The silvery metal building the size of a shipping container. It was utilitarian, but had an amazing view of the ocean below. An excellent point to spend hours smoking or drinking just to get lost to memories. Or just the one. The cowboy who was the first introduction to Overwatch for the mercenary.

_][_

_It had been months since Genji had intruded upon Hanzo’s yearly remembrance of his brother’s death. Supposed death. He found it unbelievable that even after the devastation Genji had survived. More so that his little brother wanted a murder back into that half life of technology. Being offered a chance to reenter the world to help others had appeal. It would be a different experience._

_Hanzo didn’t know how he had gathered the courage to come to these rocky shores. He slipped in through a degradation in the surrounding wall. For a military complex the security was weak. But what else could be expected from abandoned buildings. Hearing the scuff of boots on stone, the archer leaned out from his cover to see if he had been discovered. Hiding among the cliff face would not engender any trust, but Hanzo had not wanted to confront them directly without knowing who he was dealing with._

_A flare of a cigar exposed a bearded face below a broad brimmed hat. The shadows were too great to make out any detail. The man glanced in Hanzo’s direction. Quickly he ducked back behind his cover. Below he could hear a booming voice ask, “Athena, any strangers on your sensors?” The computer was impossible for him to make out from this distance. How had this man differentiated him from all the other nighttime shadows?_

_Questions would come last. Three shots ricochetted in the stones beside him. Lightning aiding his reflexes, Hanzo drew an arrow and fired into the man’s left arm. Through the cloth wrap. Strangely there was no cry of pain. Only a grunt of surprise. In the momentary distraction, the archer notched another arrow and leapt down. Nearly the second he landed, arrow aimed eight inches from the gunslinger’s forehead, the revolver leveled between his eyes. Did some supernatural being aid this man’s sight and reflexes?_

_Hanzo could only compare such movement to the dragon within him. “Lower your weapon. I will not give you another warning.” He kept his voice well controlled. Though the gunshots had announced his presence to the base, they did not need to know the extent of the invasion._

_Under the brim of the tattered leather hat, the light of the cigar glowed bright. Just long enough to catch fascination within the hard eyes. “Ain’t moving, partner. If you mean no harm, step back an inch and let me tell the others you’re here. Don’t want ‘em coming out guns a blazing, do ya?” The gunman’s dark whisper suggested he held all the cards in this situation._

_Hanzo frowned. Such confidence even at a disadvantage. It was a surprise courtesy. Yet he would not be the first one to yield._

_The gunslinger gave an abbreviated sigh. Annoyance clearly resonated within those eyes. “Hey, Athena!” The man called to the computer once again. “Let them know there is an archer on the roof.”_

_This time a clear, gentle female voice answered from within the metal building. “Affirmative.”_

_Then they waited. The silence stretched to the point that Hanzo feared once it snapped, he or the gunman would fire. Oddly though the man’s eyes never held any anger at the situation. Just a constant curiosity. The same as Hanzo. How had this man matched his reactions?_

_“I am here.” A soft male voice interrupted the moment. Anything else might have triggered their weapons. Genji. Surprisingly subtle. _”I didn’t think you’d come.”__

__”This idiot shot at me.”_ _

__”You did not come by way of the main entrance.”_ The cyborg did not let the conversation continue. Hanzo knew that this outcome was to be expected by not using the proper methods of communication. It did nothing to ease Hanzo’s self righteous frustration. Armored hands gently pushed the weapons towards the floor. The elder Shimada brother allowed it, seeing that the gunman also silently agreed to the truce._

_An ear piercing screech of ripping metal startled the two ninjas. Hanzo watched fascinated as the gunslinger used unnatural strength to yank the arrow from the metal wall. When he started to fiddle with the arrow itself, Hanzo noted that the man had a cyborg prosthetic._

_“Jesse, this is my brother, Hanzo.” So the man with unearthly reflexes had a name. “Hanzo, this is Jesse McCree, a good friend of mine.” Genji remained between them. Obviously concerned about another flare up of tempers. He needn’t worry. Hanzo shouldered his bow. Taking the first step in trusting his younger brother’s friend._

_“So this is the man that tried to kill you. Sorry if I don’t shake your hand.” McCree did not relent in his study of the archer. Even as he holstered his revolver. A low whistle caught Hanzo’s attention. This time the gunslinger was focused on the arrow. “Pretty handy with that bow.”_

_The praise was unexpected. Particularly from an enemy. Hanzo arched an eyebrow and shoved his arrow into the quiver, tilting his head to Genji. Making sure to speak English for the gunslinger’s benefit, Hanzo scoffed. “This is the likes of which you expect me to join?”_

_“Sorry, I’m late.” A new woman appeared, threatening to destabilize the fragile truce. “Winston said Genji would take point. Shall we get going? Everyone is waiting to meet your brother, Genji.” The Brit was too enthusiastic for the dour mood. Obviously the cyborg had informed his friends of Hanzo’s possible arrival. He shouldn’t feel as annoyed as he did._

_Following his younger brother, and trying to contain his concerns about putting his back to the dangerous gunslinger, Hanzo heard a rather lighthearted comment from McCree. “Hey, Hanzo, you did know that this arm was metal, right?” Was the American joking?_

_Everyone turned. Hanzo scowled at the extended prothesis with a carbon fiber and steel alloy arrow shot cleanly through the circuits and metal sheathing. He had not known at the time of aiming. But one thing was certain, “It would not have made a difference.” He kept his gaze level and voice even, refusing to show any admiration for the man’s abilities._

_“What?” McCree’s startled question initiated Hanzo steps towards the main building. Apparently he had more of these strange people to meet. “Come on now, you did know…. Right? Genji?” He caught a glimpse of his brother shrugging, though the cyborg ninja did chuckle at McCree’s distress. Hanzo refused to answer. Perhaps one day he would reveal the truth. For now it suited him for the gunslinger to wonder._

][

His memory was clouded by fondness and now a blanket of despair. McCree still did not know the truth. The gunslinger had attempted to pry the answer out of Hanzo multiple times over the several months they had been together. The archer maintained that it would not have made a difference. He had proven that much when he encountered McCree on that cold early winter night in Russia. The man was barely recognizable as the one Hanzo had befriended. 

That had definitely taken time. With Genji constantly reminding Jesse that if the cyborg could forgive his own brother, then the gunslinger could too. Hanzo had never met a man who internalized another’s grudge so deeply. Then he learned that the cowboy took his friendships seriously. That was the unexpected day when McCree dragged the archer out of the line of fire. It was a soldier thing to do. A honorable thing to do. 

The man who held a revolver to Hanzo’s head revealed that he had no honor. Those eyes belonged a hitman. While surviving in the world as a mercenary, Hanzo had seen that dead look too often. He had even seen those eyes in the mirror when he controlled the Shimada Clan. It took all these years for him remove that expression from his visage. One that he learned over a lifetime.

McCree had always been capable. The gunslinger’s technique produced the deadly glare and now Talon forced that look onto the goodnatured cowboy full time. A man who chose to use his skill at killing to help complete strangers. Where Hanzo used his talents for income, Jesse never asked for anything. He preferred wisecracks, sarcasm and self depreciation. While most of that personality remained, Hanzo recognized the distance. An eagerness for murder that had not been present before Talon took him.

“Forgive me,” a gentle mechanical voice interrupted Hanzo’s memories. Perhaps for the best, they were only forcing him into deeper despair. The Omnic monk hovered lower on the faint access to the towering cliffs. “I did not realize anyone was here.” The expressionless visage was difficult to interpret, but Zenyatta managed to convey apology in his tone and tilt of his head.

“Few ever try to come here.” Hanzo sighed. He wouldn’t put it past the monk to have come to this remote spot to talk. Everyone else on the base had opinions about what should have been done when encountering McCree. Why not someone who had never met the man.

“May I join you?” The request was kind. Thankfully not probing. Whatever the Omnic’s intentions, he was not pushy with them. Hanzo collected the empty sake bottle and cup to create enough space to share. He could have left the compound entirely if he desperately needed isolation. Zenyatta took the invitation silently. Soon soft chimes joined the distant waves. Surprisingly Hanzo did not find them distracting.

In the early morning hours, meditation amid the crimson drenched sky fading into crystalline blue eased the warrior’s soul with in him. So torn from the cost one decision on the battlefield, the archer failed to seek healing for himself. He could only accept the truth and move on. At least they were no longer in limbo as to the cowboy’s condition. His conversation with the old sniper returned to him. No one would be prepared to do what was necessary to break Talon’s hold over McCree. Hanzo could not even guarantee his commitment. He had never been in the business of breaking human will. Killing? Certainly. No matter how knowledgable he was, Hanzo would need the assistance of everyone who would come in contact with McCree. But how would he convince this small crowd of soldiers and morally sound individuals to take part in what would amount to torture?

The silence of the chimes brought the crashing waves into the forefront of his attention. He glanced over to the monk. The Omnic had not moved from his meditative stance but the orbs around his neck had stilled. “May I make an observation?” Zenyatta asked when he realized Hanzo was no longer caught in introspection.

“I cannot stop you.”

“No. But I wanted see if you were more receptive this time. Last time I realize I could have been more circumspect. I do apologize for my former abruptness.”

“What do you wish to say?” Hanzo cut into the monk’s speech.

“You have only just met this man following his inclusion in Talon. Yet you have come to to such an isolated location rather than remain with the others to plan for his return.”

Redirecting his gaze to the waves and distant glittering lights of passing ships, Hanzo frowned at the thoughts roaming through his mind. He settled on one. “I have answered too many duplicate questions. When they come up with a new series of concerns or complaints I will join them. Until then being here will the same as sitting at their conference table. Yet I am concerned that they will not be capable of reversing Talon’s brainwashing.” It would be a monumental undertaking. Provided they could even capture the gunslinger in the first place.

“Then you must prepare them.” The monk made it sound so simple. So effortless.

“How?”

“By not backing down from their objections.”

“You have a remarkable way with words.” Hanzo’s dry tone brought out a melodic soft chuckle from the monk.

“Please know that I will assist you in your endeavors. While I have only guided the paths of those who chose to change, caring for one who is lost will not be much different.” Zenyatta’s confidence encouraged Hanzo more than he expected. For all the animosity he felt towards the Omnic upon first meeting him, he had become one of the most stalwart supporters of returning McCree to the Jesse they knew.

[/\\][\/]

A soft thunk accompanied the state of the art arrow slamming head first into Sombra’s desk. The gouge it left behind would take a week of refurbishment to remove. The cowboy’s angry drawl followed. “You said he was a visitor.” 

“Yeah. I said a visitor. Never said he was a friend.” The hacker rolled her eyes and yanked the arrow from her desk. Annoyed with the man for damaging her things. “Besides, you weren’t going to shoot him anyway.”

“I hadn’t decided.” He growled. The purple glow of her screens highlighted the clean shaven chin and deep set eyes. His shadowed scowl and undisguised anger a world of difference between the closed off cowboy she had met in the bar.

“Oh please.” Sombra pointed the arrowhead between McCree’s eyes. “You were so hung up on the thought of a visitor that there is no way you would kill him before you had all the answers.”

“Well, as you said, he ain’t no friend. Not that I have any of those to begin with.”

“Aw, vaquero, you have me.” Sombra chuckled. 

“I said friends, Sombra. Now you’re gonna tell me everything.” McCree ripped the arrow from her grip.

“You know what it’s going to cost, don’t you.”

“A non-negotiable favor. Now start talking.”

“I thought better of you, McCree. You really are no fun.” With a sigh, Sombra leaned back in her chair and started opening photos of the Shimada brothers past and present. “Now the problem is, I do not have the information you are looking for. I don’t know why you are important to him. But he is a disgraced son of a criminal family. And Talon has been trying to recruit him for years. Now it seems like he’s found his little brother and is trying to play the good guy.”

“Genji’s brother…” McCree studied the photos. Did he really not connect the Shimada name? He did not seem to be the type of guy to put such connections together quickly. And if the younger Shimada brother never spoke Hanzo’s name then why would McCree remember? “What is Talon offering him?”

Sombra backed away from her console and studied the gunslinger. That was not the question she had expected. “The restoration of his criminal empire. And a place in their new world order.”

“He’s not gonna accept that.” McCree laughed heartedly. The scowl from just a second before vanished. Replaced by the half grin that said the cowboy had figured something out.

“Oh?” Sombra would bite. It would help her figure out how McCree thought. Perhaps predict his moods next time. “And what offer would he accept?”

“A guy like him doesn’t need money or an empire. He left all that behind and can make enough money as an assassin for hire. You said he’s with Genji now? Well, that kind of guy either wants to mend things with his brother or finish him off for good. I’m betting on the first. So grab the cyborg and the archer’s sure to follow.” McCree sounded so sure of himself. A cocky smile accompanied the little speech.

The hacker pursed her lips in thought. The gunslinger wasn’t completely wrong. “And how would you know?”

McCree leaned against her desk, invading her territory more deliberately. He waved the arrow in her face mockingly. “You can pull all the facts you want off the web, but I know people. First he called me Jesse. Now I know my memory ain’t what it used to be, but that’s a rather familiar address, don’t ya think. And I don’t let anyone call me that. And two, he shot me. That means he’s not afraid to commit to unpopular decisions. Seeing as how he tried to murder his own brother, but is back with him tells me he’ll do anything to keep that family tie going.”

“So we’ve just been offering the wrong thing.”

“Just judging from the one encounter I had.” The gunslinger shrugged carelessly. The arrow swinging wide. “But get Genji involved and you’ll have this Hanzo character in no time.”

Sombra chuckled. For a brainwashed man he still had rather impressive deductive capabilities. But Sombra figured Genji was the wrong target. They had already seen Hanzo come in search of someone. The former yakuza boss even seemed interested in joining. Though he had left enough surveillance that it had taken Sombra a week to find all the bugs. Hanzo was good. Better than McCree at placing those tiny cameras and microphones. Her blanket security did not let anything slip out. She even listened in to the conversation between the council and Hanzo after her private research into McCree’s background. One thing was certain, Akande wanted the archer on his team. And Hanzo never officially said no this time around.

“You’re right,” Sombra ultimately said. The gunslinger did not need to know that he had been the bait that drew the mercenary. “You should take it up with Gabe.”

“Reyes? Naw, you should take it up with that Akande guy. Reyes will go get the ninja, but he’s not the right one to make the deal. Besides you should do it. Akande likes you.”

“Wouldn’t say that. But I’ll think about it. But you know who he really likes? Amelie.”

“You don’t say.” McCree chuckled. Who knew he would become a horrible gossip just like her. Sombra had known they would be good friends.

“Honest. She can do no wrong.”

“Well then,” the slow drawl was punctuated by a slow smile. “Get her to make the suggestion. Both of them might say yes.”

“Probably not, but hey no harm in asking.” Sombra turned back to her screens when the sudden thought hit her. “Hey, McCree.” The cowboy was walking away, thinking the conversation done. “I’m going to Korea. Want to come?”

The man stopped with a curious tilt to his head. With the arrowhead he scratched under the black fedora. Sombra found herself wondering if she could find a more suitable hat for the cowboy. “Never been there before.”

She grinned. “Neither has the hacker I’m playing hide and seek with. But that’s where we’re going to find him.”

“Let me guess, you planted a lead there.”

“Bingo. Best way to find a guy is to leave breadcrumbs.”

“Take it this is one of your unsanctioned field trips.” McCree paused. His face going blank as he considered his choices. Staying here or getting into some sort of trouble. Sombra knew which one he would pick. “Reyes has my gun locked up again.”

Of course it was. Doomfist didn’t trust the gunslinger yet and Reaper was the default babysitter. This really wasn’t going to help the trust issue, but if McCree did Talon right without orders then perhaps they would see how well Moira’s brainwashing worked. Sombra gave him the needed information. “Locker 8-B, code 39, 76, 51, 24. Think you can handle it?” 

“Meet you in the transport hanger,” McCree waved as he headed out of the room. Arrow still in hand like a trophy he wasn’t about loose.

Sombra called as she shut down her screens. “Ten minutes, Maverick. Or I’m heading off without you.” The door shut forcefully as the gunslinger expressed his annoyance at the callsign. That at least suited him. Perhaps not the pressed suits or fedoras. But the man was living up to his chosen code name.


	17. Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hana learns the hard way about McCree. A plan of action gets started.

**Chapter Seventeen: Decisions**

Hana felt right at home among the streets of Seongnam. The shell of buildings still under repair in some places and abandoned in others. Faded colors of old advertisements spoke of days past when these walls were new. Hana did not know anything different when compared to her home. Concrete rubble littered the streets as people went about their daily chores. Shopping, laundry, cooking. Life wasn’t much of a secret in a devastated community. It was so different from the rebuilt metropolises she had visited since becoming an international superstar. 

She wanted to change things here. She could only do that by bringing attention to the poverty and loss her home endured. At least the people were still smiling. At least they tried to. Hana waved at them. Asked them how their day was going. It was the least she could do. The Omnic Crisis had hit Korea hard. Seoul was nearly rebuilt, but that had not extended to the surrounding cities to the same extent. 

“You seem comfortable around here.” Lucio said as they walked the streets. It was the four of them. The Brazilian musician had insisted on joining the trip to Korea on the hope of finding the Talon hacker’s stronger hold. So had she to be honest. All because the Omnic hacker from Numbani insisted they had found one of Sombra bases of operation. Lynx Seventeen and Zarya were several paces ahead trying to make sense of the Omnic’s information. They weren’t completely lost, but it seemed Sombra was able to disguise her workhouse much better than any of them had expected.

“Yeah. It’s a lot like home. Most of these towns are. The rebuilding efforts haven’t gotten to them yet. I bet you see a lot of the same where you’re from.” Hana kicked at a chunk of cement. A cinderblock building not too far away was nothing more than a pile of rough edged rocks. Still children scrambled over the mound, laughing and screaming in play. Mothers hung laundry nearby and chatted about the latest vaccination effort. Just another concern when normal was a jumbled mess of trying to get by.

Lucio nodded, his massive dreads bounced with the motion. His bright yellows and greens stuck out like a sore thumb in this gray cityscape. “Some. A few big corporations tried to redevelop my home. It would have displaced thousands of people and ruin their way of life. Sure there are problems to fix, but bulldozing it to make new so-called standard communities is not the right way.”

“I can see that,” Hana nodded sympathetically. “But having brand new communities sounds like a dream. It is a bit depressing to come back to this after seeing all the wonderfully new cities around the world. I wish rebuilding could be faster.”

“You’re telling me. But creation takes longer than destruction.” The D.J. produced a massive grin. His eyes caught sight of a makeshift soccer ball a few older kids were kicking around. “Nice to know somethings never change.” It looked like he was about to join the children in a game when a commotion rose from their mission companions. 

“I’m telling you all my investigations lead us here.” Lynx stated firmly. Their conviction was not enough to win over the Russian soldier.

“This is nothing more than a burnt out shell. It is not structurally stable enough to house any equipment, much less the hardware that we saw in Sombra’s Dorado location.” Zarya shouldered her cannon with ease. Hana couldn’t help but be impressed. She had tried to pick up the particle cannon and could barely lift it off the floor. The other soldier offered to help her train without batting an eye. Hana had not decided if she wanted to yet.

“But this is where the IP address is located. It wasn’t a mobile device either. It came from something big.” Lynx Seventeen’s antenna drooped with frustration. The silver Omnic in the bright green jumpsuit had gotten quite a few stares. Hana had tried to warn them that Korea did not really like Omnics. And as expected their reception had been cold. But with two soldiers and a popular musician accompanying them, they were left alone.

Zarya eyed the rubble, scowling. They faced an empty hollow building, occupied only by stray dogs. “Then where are the traps she had last time?” There were no signs of human development of any sort. Hana suspected that this mission failed before they even got started.

“So I am expected to know everything?”

“You were the one who claimed she’d be here. That this was an active location. This whole trip was based off information you and Athena provided. So you tell me,” The massive Russian soldier set down her cannon with a thud. Her hard glare should have frozen the Omnic’s circuits. “Where is she?”

“You came all this way to visit?” An accented female voice called from a building behind them. “I guess I should be flattered.” Hana saw the lithe olive skinned hacker they came to find. Dressed in black and purple, the woman did not look all that impressive. The curious purple bands on her head were more interesting. Lynx had claimed they were a form of cybernetics. “And you brought more friends. I see you’re branching out from the robot.”

“It’s not my… You know what, that’s not the point.” Zarya hefted her particle cannon into the ready position. “We’re here to stop you.”

“Stop me? From what?” Sombra chuckled. She could careless about the aggravation Winston and Athena went through trying to stop her. 

Hana wished she had her mech already present. She had not expected get into a battle on the streets of a populated town. “Ooh, I can’t stand you hackers. You give those of us with skill a bad name.”

“You know that isn’t the kind of hacking I do, right?” Sombra frowned as she spoke down to them. That made D.Va even more furious. She did not need the condescending remarks. She did kick herself with realization. Of course this woman had other agendas than ruining the gaming experience.

“Lucio, get the people out of here!” Hana pushed the emergency call for her mech again. It wasn’t usually this delayed. The first thing to do when the fighting started was to get rid of the civilians. Her training had drilled that into her before she ever saw combat with the giant ocean going Omnic.

“On it!” The audio-medic skated away, rounding up the overly curious gawkers. He might not speak Korea, but they knew his music and he had prerecorded evacuation statements to help him out. D.Va saved only a glance over her shoulder to make sure the civilians were heeding the warning. She pushed the mech call again. Something was wrong.

“Ay pobrecita. It’s not coming. I made sure of that before you ever stepped foot into this town.” A smug grin formed on the hacker’s face.

“Why you…!” Hana could not think of the right word in English. She was about to insult the woman with the best possible Korean curses she knew when an explosion knocked the breath from her lungs. Zarya. Her weapon was charged and ready. Hana grabbed her own light pistol. If her mech was out of commission then this was the alternative.

“Wow. Both of you. Such itchy trigger fingers.” Sombra’s voice was behind them. How? D.Va did not know. She whipped around, faster than the particle cannon. Pistol leading the way. The hacker ducked out of the way then vanished into a purple haze. Loosing sight of the enemy was not something Hana usually experienced. Except the occasional video game. Omnics at least could not turn invisible.

“Not this time!” Zarya’s cannon surged with a bright beam, cutting a trench in the ground where Sombra once stood. It continued along a path with no rhyme or reason that Hana could find. Apparently the Russian knew something D.Va didn’t. 

“There!” Lynx pointed to a crack in the building next to them. The pale blue beam arced across the space. The tip grazed a spot of light purple and Sombra collapsed out of thin air. She held her ankle and scowled in pain. Hana was impressed. For two people who did not like each other, the robot and the soldier worked well together.

“Ugh.” The hacker cast a truly ugly glare at the Omnic. “Why aren’t you useless already?”

“Software update. And I studied your code in depth while you were trying to get into Gibraltar’s computers. So, my firewalls are impenetrable to your attempts. That’s what you get for trying the same tricks repeatedly.” Lynx was so sure of themselves. Cocky was definitely a shared attitude among hackers.

Zarya’s cannon pressed into the black and silver accents of Sombra’s jacket. “Getting you in jail will solve a lot of problems. Or are you planning on blowing up the building again?”

“Thought about it,” Sombra grinned. She did not seem worried about the massive weapon against her chest. “But I got something better this time.”

Gravel crunched under unknown heavy footsteps. Hana tried to spin around to face this new threat. A mighty silver hand passed her peripheral before latching onto her throat. Another hand, covered in black leather, gripped her right wrist painfully to the point of forcing her to drop her pistol. Hana’s remaining hand scrambled against the robotic hand slowly cutting off her air supply. Faintly she heard several cries of her name, but she could only gasp with panicked breaths. 

“Well now… The four of you against one? That ain’t fair I tell you.” McCree. Deep, dark, thick drawl. Jesse McCree was with Sombra. Desperately Hana clawed at the prosthetic. The grip wasn’t enough to completely shut off her oxygen supply, but it was so limited. Her lungs hurt. She wanted to cry out for help. The others were right there. But if they moved so did McCree. 

“So you’re the man everyone is looking for.” Zarya spoke evenly. Despite the situation her soldier mentality kept her focused. 

“Guess so.” The voice behind her held notes of a grin. Hana couldn’t see it, but she had heard McCree speak while grinning often enough to hear it. People were right. Smiles were audible when talking. D.Va struggled for another breath while the conversation continued. 

The Olympic contender turned soldier narrowed her eyes. This was not the situation she had signed up for. Like Hana, she was there to shoot the enemy. Not negotiate. “What do you want?”

“First thing’s first. Let her go. We’ll get out of here. And you can have this one back.” McCree tightened his grip on Hana’s throat just enough to cause a grimace to take over Zarya’s face. 

Beyond her sight, Lucio called. “All right. Just stop.” His former enthusiasm diminished with the situation. Hana couldn’t blame him. “No one has to get hurt. More than they already are.” He corrected. Clearly Sombra was sporting a wound to her leg. “It’s an even swap. Just leave without further retaliation.”

“Sounds like a marvelous idea, kid. But your friends don’t seem to agree.” That had to be directed towards Zarya. The Russian was charging her cannon as if ready to kill the hacker right then and there.

The musician finally came into Hana’s vision. He glided smoothy over the rough terrain with his high-tech skates. Lucio went directly between Zarya and Sombra. He would have no chance of lifting the cannon or stopping the soldier, but he tried to talk her out of it. “Look, Zarya… You do this, Hana is gone. Keeping Athena’s security systems intact can be done regardless of who is breaking into them. We can try this another time. Because right now, no one is going to win.”

“And let her go? Again?” Zarya growled.

“He does have a valid point,” Lynx’s smooth interjection caught everyone off guard. It seemed they had forgotten the Omnic even existed. “We can rebuff her attacks. No one needs to die today.”

The world stood still. Hana drew in a ragged breath. The metal fingers locked on her throat pained every muscle as she swallowed. It all hinged on Lieutenant Zaryanova’s decision. Pink hair fluttered in a brief burst of wind. No one liked to loose. Sometimes there was no other choice. The Russian solider backed away, her face unreadable. “Keep it up and we will come back to stop you.” She dropped the base of the cannon onto the ground to show she would not pursue. 

Sombra scrambled to her feet with a final glower at the Omnic hacker. The grip against Hana’s throat remained until the Talon operative disappeared over the mound of rubble. Then a brush of coarse beard against her cheek told Hana that McCree had moved. He whispered into her ear and she froze. Hanzo had claimed the gunslinger knew nothing of the Recall group. Her mind barely comprehended the words before her breath stopped coming. Fighting the prostheses was useless. It was all instinct. He had broken his word. 

She was going to die after all.

_][_

_Getting approval from the MEKA to join the Recall effort as posted by a renegade call had taken some doing. Hana did not have the complete freedom she had had as a pro-gamer. Then she could visit whatever cities she wished to see her fans or take part in competitions. That life had been fun. But it wasn’t going to last. Not with her home being threatened._

_Everyone had claimed the Omnic Crisis was over. Well apparently they had never been to Korea._

_But the pilots did have some freedoms. So long as her CO could get in touch with her at all times. And that she respond immediately when called. Her life as a MEKA pilot wasn’t so bad. The training had been the worst part. The routine. The orders. The classes. Hana actually enjoyed training with her mech. It was a highly advance gaming system. It was just the rest of it that made it so frustrating._

_She voiced her opinions to her commanding officers in regards to the Recall video. Explained how since Overwatch was the organization that had put down the Omnic uprising in the first place that they could help do it again. And Hana wanted to be part of it._

_So here she was. Part of an unofficial offer of the Korean government to find stability in this crumbling world._

_But specifically Hana was at the practice range because Athena promised to help her with her aim. The training dummies were very useful. Reassembling after being destroyed. Her pistol fired away rapidly. The previous shot helping her get the next._

_The hiss of the door announced the arrival of another. Hana stopped immediately. Regulations on the target range required all weapons down to avoid accidents. Her training had drilled that into her head. When she saw the newcomer she almost didn’t believe her eyes. A tall scruffy man in a faded red wrap and a tattered leather hat. It was as if a old time cowboy had stepped out of a Western. It was so bizarre._

_“Oh. Sorry. Not used to people being here this early in the morning.” Even his country drawl was from the movies. Was this guy for real? He even tipped his hat with the apology._

_Hana shrugged. Being interrupted wasn’t new. Not after training with a bunch of other gamers turned mech pilots. “Almost done.” The man nodded and took a seat in the protected viewing area. He lit up a thick cigar and settled back. An audience was also nothing new. But this time if felt strange. The complete stranger watching her train felt more like one of her instructors glaring at her for improper posture or grip. The cowboy didn’t say anything. He didn’t have any particular expression on his face. Hana just couldn’t get that feeling out of her head._

_She finished up the last few rounds set out. Overall she was pleased with her performance. Hana was better with her mech than with the pistol, but her instructors always said that when her mech was disabled, she needed to defend herself in other ways. At least the pistol felt like many of the gun shaped controllers on the market. Putting everything away, Hana almost forgot about her audience until the cowboy walked up to her. The boots echoing loudly on the floor and a strange jingle accompanying them._

_“D.Va, tell me one thing: Where’d you learn to shoot like that?”_

_That got her by surprise. The man knew who she was. Well it shouldn’t have surprised her. She had made a name for herself with gaming and then acting. But the cowboy did not seem like the kind of guy who cared much about either. “16-bit Hero.”_

_The scruffy cowboy scratched at the beard and blew out a long stream of smoke. He nodded as if he finally placed the reference. “If you wanna shoot better, treat each bullet like your last.”_

_“Didn’t ask you.”_

_“Didn’t need to.” The cowboy chuckled and used a metal hand to remove the cigar. He stepped forward, leading with his right hand. “Name’s McCree.” After that the man became another in a long line of instructors. This one though was actually useful. They trained together quite frequently after that. And Hana had to admit, her aim got better._

][

“She’s awake!” Lucio called to those standing over her. Hana heard gentle music that eased the burn in her throat. She tried to sit up. Two sets of hands helped her. A couple of coughs stalled her questions. Which was a good thing too. She already knew the answers. McCree had choked her unconscious. He would have done that to make his get away. At least he hadn’t broken his word. “Hey, Hana? Are you alright?”

“Yeah…” A bottle of water found its way into her hands. Slender silver fingers wrapped around it until she could grip it on her own. Hana pushed down a shutter her recent memory forced on her. “I’m good.” She took the moment to down the full bottle to give her mind time to recover. She wasn’t dead. That was the biggest takeaway from this botched encounter. And McCree was gone. That was the second.

“Hana?” Lucio tried again. “What did he tell you?” It was gentle and concerned. Still it was a push to know more.

D.Va closed her eyes and focused on her unrestricted breath. She needed to. If only so she didn’t freak out about the whole incident. She was supposed to be a soldier now. A MEKA pilot. Not a hostage. “He said, ‘It’s time you moved on from 16-bit Hero.’ But I don’t get it. Hanzo said he had no memory of him.”

“No memory of Hanzo.” Lynx mused. They ran a couple of metal fingers along their antenna. “But apparently his memories are not as lost as we once believed. May I ask when this reference occurred?” The Omnic did not try harder to get the answer. For a curious hacker that seemed unusual.

“Not too long after I arrived at Gibraltar. But definitely before Hanzo showed up.” Maybe they could pinpoint where McCree’s memories seemed to be missing and use it to bring him back. Hana sighed as she pushed herself to standing. Lucio hovered nearby. He was a medic. Apparently he did not believe she was ready to stand on her own. Well she felt fine. And she wasn’t going to let any one get overprotective.

“D.Va,” Zarya called. Hana turned towards the brusque soldier and saw her standing next to the bright pink mech. Hair and painted metal matched, sending amusement coursing through her. The Russian had appraising eyes as she studied the machine. “Have you seen the Svyatogors? Now that’s what I call a mech.”

“Size isn’t everything.” Hana pouted. A grin not far behind. Leave it to a fellow soldier to break the tension with an unprompted boast. It also served to completely distract from depressing atmosphere. “She does exactly what she needs to. When someone isn’t messing with her systems.”

“I know this is rather forward,” Lynx stepped up beside her to marvel at the mech. “But seeing as how I was able to block Sombra’s hacking from my systems, perhaps I could help block it from yours?”

“We’ll see. Right now I just want to get back.” Hana smoothed her hand over the front shield of her mech. They would have to take precautions against invasions into the mech’s software. And her CO needed to know about the vulnerability. But first, they needed to inform the others of the unexpected development with Talon.

[\/][/\\]

“There is no reasonable explanation currently available to us that explains why McCree seems to retain some memories and not others.” Hanzo sat at the conference table with everyone the Recall effort had reeled in. It was a short list. But enough to get the job done. Or so they hoped. Every day was proving to be a challenge greater than they were capable of handling.

The return of the Korea Team had cemented that sentiment into his brain. Everyone returned unharmed but the whole goal of the mission walked away. Interrupted by the very man they were trying to find. Both Winston and Morrison had expressed their displeasure at learning the details. The great genetically modified gorilla was content to know that no one was hurt. They could continue to deal with the hacker. The former Strike Commander remained quietly disgruntled at the failure. It seemed he took everything personally these days.

Hanzo was here because of the new information regarding the gunslinger. His eyes met the Shambali monk across the table. There was at least one ally as Hanzo made the choice to detail his brainwashing reversal plan. Then he glanced to the corner of the room where Zaryanova and Lynx Seventeen stood. The table had not been large enough for everyone. The gorilla occupied the space next to them. Hanzo however was more interested in the fact that those two had only just met McCree. They only knew this brainwashed version. That could be an asset to them in the long run. 

“Now that we know McCree will continue to join Talon in their missions, it will give us an opportunity to find him. And with effort, to capture him.” Hanzo continued to detail what he termed the ‘Cowboy Plan.’

“How do you propose to do that?” Fareeha commented from her place at the table. She was a security officer with Helix. Kidnapping people was not part of her job description. The former yakuza had to remember that.

His eyes slid towards the soldiers turned mercenaries. They would have the skills. He wondered if they would have the stomachs for it. The tighter they drew the noose around the gunslinger, the more likely people were going to be hurt. “Those details will come as we develop a rough plan of action. The main concern is on how to draw him out and away from the other Talon operatives. Sombra set a trap for Lynx in Korea.” The Omnic apologized once they learned the details of the lure Sombra placed in that pile of rubble. No one wished to lead others into danger. Not without knowing the full extend of the problem. Hanzo continued so no one would dwell on the most recent failure. “We must do the same for McCree.”

Ana set down her teacup with a sharp click. It gained the attention of the others. “That is easier said than done. Jesse is an accomplished bounty hunter. Most of the tricks we could use, he already knows.” The old sniper was right. McCree knew black-ops and mercenary work first hand. The only one who might know more was already a Talon council member. 

“Reaper took Jesse by surprise.” Hanzo said, loathed to bring it up. But there could be no secrets or hidden agendas now. “There must be something that could catch him off guard.” By working with individuals who knew the gunslinger during his time with Overwatch, Hanzo had thought they might be more helpful. Amari had taught the man the finer points of aim. She knew him almost as well as Reyes. Now Morrison was different. McCree’s encounters were strictly Commander versus soldier as far as Hanzo could tell. And neither were all that fond of the other.

With fourteen people in one room, the silence was truly disheartening.

Jack Morrison abruptly pushed off the wall to stand directly behind Ana’s chair. “To catch him off guard… No. We don’t have that kind of knowledge,” the admission brought a frown to his face. “There is one thing I can suggest. McCree gets mission focused. And he’s good at it. But what isn’t mission specific might slip past him until later. We won’t be able to take him down during combat without significant risk. What we can do is try to plan for later. Find him when he’s not on mission.”

A tracker. Why hadn’t he thought of that. Hanzo kept his frustration from building and accepted the suggestion. “Do we have enough trackers where we all could have one or two for any possible encounters?”

Lucio answered. “Not yet. But between me, Lynx and Athena we should be able to get plenty in the next couple of weeks. It’s just a matter of manufacturing them.”

Hanzo nodded. He was not sure he wanted this leadership position, but he would do the best he could for now. Now for the less pleasant topic. “Once we capture him, we need a place to put him. Are there any holding cells or rooms that could easily be turned into a secure lockdown?” He met Winston’s eyes. The bright yellow irises nearly disappeared as the great brow creased in thought. They reminded Hanzo too much of the yellow ring in McCree’s eyes. 

“This base was never meant to house prisoners. It was a launch site and deployment center. If I recall correctly, prisoners were turned over to the governments involved.” Winston seemed truly apologetic with his statement. But it was what Hanzo needed to know.

“Then we need to build one.”

“Hanzo, not to sound contrary or anything,” Fareeha voiced the first resistance. “But this is still Jesse we’re talking about.”

The woman had not yet met Talon influenced Jesse McCree. She had not seen the cruelty within those yellow ringed eyes. It would break her heart when she did. “It is. But he is not going to care about former relationships. We have only met him twice. The first time he did not remember me and was ready to shoot me. Next he tried to strangle Hana and failed to recognize Lucio. We are talking about a man who won’t hesitate to kill any who get in his way.”

“Actually can we get back to that?” Lena piped up. She leaned forward intently. “He did remember Hana. Even gave her what amounted to good coaching advice. It sounds like Jesse is still in there.”

“I am not denying that,” Hanzo did his best to control the urge to roll his eyes. That would not help anyone and would only serve to distant them from helping. “But the Jesse we knew before this would never have harmed her in the first place.”

“He’s right, Lena,” Lucio gave some unexpected support. “If you could have seen the look in his eyes… That was not Jesse. It was dark. Like one wrong move and he would have snapped her neck.” From her seat across the table, Hana shuddered at the memory. It had been less than two days since the incident. As strong as the girl was, she had not yet seen all the horrors the world had to offer. Hopefully they could end this before she saw more. “Jesse is in there… but I don’t know how buried he is.”

A chair scrapped across the tile. All eyes drifted to the dwarfish engineer. Torbjorn waved his circular protheses to them as he walked away. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be converting one of these rooms into a prison cell.” He sounded reluctant but determined. Just what they needed right then.

“Thank you.” Hanzo let himself sigh in relief as someone understood the precautions they would need to take. To provide for the worst case scenario. 

Silence returned. The remainder were lost to their thoughts on how one of their own could turn against them. When Angela decided to put in her opinion, the world sparked back into life. “I do have a question. Let us assume we capture him and are able to hold him. How do we then reverse the brainwashing that requires such measures?” And there was the question Hanzo dreaded. Not a single person present was going to like his answer. As a medical professional, the doctor should have an inkling of what was to come. Perhaps she was simply laying the groundwork for those who did not want the answers.

Looking towards Zenyatta for that unexpected vote of confidence, Hanzo found the words. “We first have to determine if he is simply brainwashed or if there is a genetic component. Then we have to reeducate him. In order to change him to this point, he underwent highly stressful situations.”

“Torture.” Zarya provided the distasteful word. When talking about a stranger it was much easier.

“Yes. And it will take another series of highly stressful situations to break him again.”

“Brother, you can’t be suggesting we do to Jesse the same as Talon?” Genji’s impersonal visor hid all facial expressions. Yet his voice was distressed at the thought. Hanzo could not ease his brother’s emotions. The cyborg understood the situation as few others would. He knew what it took to get men to talk. It would be the same to change a man’s beliefs. All around them the Recall team shifted awkwardly. Uncomfortable with the prospect.

Hanzo steeled himself. “I am. Breaking the body and the spirit is the only way to break Talon’s hold on him.” The cacophony of objections crashed through the former silence. That was good though. These people would not sit back and allow horrific actions to take place under their watch. Maybe they could figure out a different way. Hanzo could only propose the one he knew. He didn’t try to argue or even pick out individual complaints. They had this right. He would only use his voice as a resource. However they restored Jesse to himself, it would be a combined effort. There needed to be a consensus.

“Hanzo,” the call of his name redirected his attention. Angela had another concern. “What is this genetic component you are referring to?” The rest of the room quieted to a distracted murmur. This was going to be the complicated part.

“This is only a theory,” the archer started. “But there is a detail I noticed when I first encountered Widowmaker. One she shares with Winston. They both have undergone dramatic genetic rewriting. Widowmaker to slow her heart and other body functions to create the sniper that she is. Winston to change his brain to a more human creation. As a result they have unnaturally yellow eyes. Jesse has the same.”

“I thought it was just the light,” Lucio added. 

Shaking his head, Hanzo continued with his theory. “No, it is there. And it is highly likely that in addition to traditional brainwashing, they have altered the chemical make up of his brain. The forced amnesia seems to be part of that.”

“How do we fix that?” Lena voiced the question everyone had on their lips.

“I don’t know,” Hanzo hated not knowing. “That is beyond my knowledge. I was hoping Doctor Ziegler would have some suggestions on this.”

Angela frowned at her neatly folded hands. It was a lot to put on her without prior warning. But there really hadn’t been much opportunity. Nor had he really desired to deal with this conversation before now. The doctor eventually looked up and met Hanzo’s intent gaze. “Without having him present and seeing the results of Talon’s efforts, it will be hard to say. I suspect Moira interwove some of her genetic experiments in this as well. But reversing genetic alternations is difficult at best. Impossible at worse. Take Jack and Gabriel for example. The American government has not once attempted to change their soldiers back to normal. They have even concluded that the process would be more dangerous than the initial experiment.”

The collection of eyes drifted to the former Strike Commander. He shifted uncomfortably at the attention. “That is from an old report I picked up in the abandoned SEP base. I don’t know how accurate it is anymore. But genetic alteration does seem to be a one way ticket.”

So not only did they have a gunslinger who was ready to kill them, they also had one with unknown modifications. Fourteen people and no resolutions. Until more actually met McCree as he was now, they were unlikely to understand the needs involved to change the man. Hanzo would have to walk them through the process, holding their hand the entire way. But who was he going to turn to when things became too much.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr at slytherinladyknight  
> https://slytherinladyknight.tumblr.com


End file.
